


The Last Days of Melanie's Life

by Regen



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:07:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 56,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25111381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Regen/pseuds/Regen
Summary: Vergil and Nero, with the help of family and friends, look into the disappearance of Nero's mother in hopes of learning what happened to her.
Comments: 119
Kudos: 137





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> "I'm not doing another long fic," I said. "I just wanna do one shots," I said. And here I am, doing another dang long fic. In my very meager defense, this started out as a one shot, but then it just... grew and grew. So now it's getting its own fic.
> 
> As with my one shots, this does tie in with An Uncle's Thoughts, but you don't necessarily need have read it to get what's going on here. The one shots may be referenced throughout as well, but again, not necessary to grasp the plot here.
> 
> Starting off with the prologue for now. I'll post the first proper chapter within the next week.

One warm day in June, at the apex of the Qliphoth, a fight to the death unfolds between two brothers of blood whose ideals have repeatedly sent them on a collision course with each other. But this fight isn’t destined to end like the others have. It starts out rather similarly, but things take a turn when Dante drops a very, _very_ unexpected bombshell on Vergil. “You cut off your own son’s arm for _this_?”

Vergil hears the words, but he doesn’t really process them. He just reacts at the opening Dante’s left. He quick-steps and slashes Dante, slicing open a wound on his shoulder before Dante can get his sword up to block. What he _does_ process is Dante’s judgmental, angry tone and he instinctively balks against it. “My son means nothing to me!” He says the words without actually thinking through the ramifications. (Noticing a pattern here yet?)

He’s met with absolute _fury._ Dante yells and summons Cerberus. Vergil barely realizes it’s out before it’s hooked his right ankle. He’s yanked forward and has to awkwardly hop to try and steady himself. It leaves him wide open to a slam from Dante’s sword, and he’s sent careening across the arena. It smarts, and Vergil struggles to get going again. But he’s ready when Dante comes charging. Just in the nick of time he dodges his attack and counters with a swipe of Yamato. Dante barely manages to block the blow with his sword, but the force of the attack has him sailing away and colliding against one of the pillars at the edge of the arena.

Vergil falls to a crouch, breathing deeply to try and regain his strength. As his adrenaline subsides and allows him to think clearly again, Dante’s earlier words finally sink in. _Did he just say…?_ He shakes his head in disbelief and looks up at Dante. He can’t believe – but when – **_what?!_** “Nero… is my son?”

“Yeah, dumbass,” Dante says. “You can’t remember through that thick skull of yours?”

His son. He has a son. That boy whom he had maimed, who had helped him when he had been at his lowest and had been decent to him, is his flesh and blood. And yes, he _can_ remember through his thick skull, because there’s only one person it could be. Even after the long passage of time and the havoc Mundus’s torture wrought on his mind, he remembers her. The realization releases an onslaught of heartbreak and regret. “Well, well… _That_ was a long time ago.”

Dante laughs a little. “I guess you were young once, too.”

He had been once, yes. Young and ambitious and very, very foolish. It hurts to think about it. He doesn’t want to think about it. He wants to focus on this fight and not on the torrent of emotions swirling in his head. Vergil assumes a battle stance, and Dante begins to do the same.

“As much as I’d love to hear that story,” Dante says, “I think it’s about time we…”

“Ended this,” Vergil finishes, fully assuming his pose. They can’t ignore this fight. They need to settle this, for once and for all. It beats dwelling on things he can’t change.

They bring out their super powered devil forms and hurl themselves at each other in a last bid to conclude their feud. But of course, nothing ever goes the way the brothers expect, because there’s one thing they didn’t count on: Nero.

There’s a flash of light and the deafening sound of something hitting the ground at an alarming speed. The brothers find themselves halted dead in their tracks, held back by the only other person who has a say in this feud of theirs.

When Dante and Vergil just manage to process what’s happening, they’re shoved back and sent skidding across the ground.

“What form of power is this?” Vergil wonders at the spectral arms resting on Nero’s back. But more than that, he’s gobsmacked by how Nero had managed to not only reobtain the power he’d been robbed of, but how he also had become stronger in such a short amount of time.

“What the hell?” Dante groans from across the way.

“This ends, right here.” Nero looks at neither his uncle nor father, but he’s clearly addressing both of them.

Vergil grimaces as he stands up. This is an unexpected development, to say the least. Nero initially had come to this city to kill him. Vergil didn’t think that would change, even after learning the truth. But it seems the boy has another goal in mind. He wants to make sense of it, but his mind still reels at the implication that this young man is his son. Yes, he looks like him and has the same powers, but he still can’t quite believe…

“Listen to me,” Dante seethes as he walks towards Nero. “I told you already, this is not your-”

Nero doesn’t even blink as of those arms lashes out at frightening speed and hits Dante square in the jaw. He goes down like a sack of bricks.

“You listen, dead weight. I won’t let you kill each other. There are other ways of settling your differences.” Nero turns, fist gripped tightly as he slowly approaches Vergil. “I’m putting a stop to this sibling rivalry.”

And for a moment, Vergil isn’t on the Qliphoth, but in a small apartment in Fortuna. And it’s not Nero staring him down, but a young woman with short, curly blonde hair and green eyes. She and Nero hardly look alike, but they share the same determined stare and set of their jaw.

Vergil shoves the memory aside, trying to forget that face and the conflicting emotions it brings with it. He instead forces out a laugh. “Ahh, you came all this way just for that.”

“Vergil… V… whatever you call yourself, Dante’s not going to die here and neither are you. Do you have a problem with that?”

Yes, he did come all this way just to stop them. Vergil thinks it’s a bit foolish; how does he think he’ll go about doing this, exactly?

“‘Not gonna die,’ my ass,” Dante complains as he sits up, rubbing his jaw. “That bitch slap nearly killed me.”

Dante’s words bring Vergil out of his reverie. They also set off that part of his brain that short circuits his sense of logic. Because instead of trying to level with his son like a normal person should, he hyperfixates again on his grudge match with Dante. He nods and swings Yamato into his other hand. “If I beat Nero… then by default, I beat you.” He points Yamato at Nero. “Agreed, Dante?”

“Whatever. I don’t really care. I’m just gonna sit this one out.” Dante falls back onto the ground.

There’s a heavy moment of silence as Nero’s expression hardens, unflinching in the face of Yamato’s blade pointing at him. “When this is over, I’ll make you submit…” Those spectral arms lift up, and the hands crack their knuckles. “Father.”

 _Father._ It pulls at a heartstring Vergil never knew he had, and with it, he realizes just a moment too late that maybe, just _maybe_ this isn’t a good idea. Now faced with actually having to fight his own son, doubt creeps in. Vergil slowly circles back a bit. When Nero swings out his sword, Vergil’s back goes ramrod straight. _No, I can’t do this. I shouldn’t have-_ “Stand down,” he says. “This doesn’t concern you.”

“Nothing to do with me?!” Nero shouts. “It has _everything_ to do with me!”

“Nero…”

“ _FUCK YOU!”_ Nero flips him off and transforms into his devil state.

Vergil now has no choice but to fight. But as Nero charges at him, sword swung out, an amused thought crosses his mind: _…you are, without a doubt, your mother’s son._


	2. Where It All Began

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Oh just _go_. You’ve been hoping he’d ask you for weeks and I’m pretty sure he’s been meaning to so _just go before one of us dies._ ”

It’s been almost four months since Dante and Vergil returned from the underworld. Their return had marked the beginning of a new phase of their and Nero’s lives. So far, it’s gone _mostly_ well. After some strong-arming from Nero and Dante, Vergil’s moved into Devil May Cry and the brothers have started trading off on jobs. When the jobs come in, they help keep them busy and mitigate the urge to strangle the other.

Look, it’s been years since they lived together. And while they might have set aside their old animosity for Nero’s sake, it’s not exactly easy to start just magically getting along again. They’ve taken steps, but it’s going to take a long while.

So, Nero is not exactly surprised when he gets a call from Trish one morning in early March. He knows her number by heart and so dispenses with the usual greeting, instead saying into the receiver, “What’s going on?”

“ _Invite your father over to visit. Immediately.”_

Nero pinches the bridge of his nose. “What are they doing?”

_“They haven’t had a job in three weeks and it’s getting ugly. Their fighting has put at least five holes in the walls, destroyed the stair railing, broken a window and nearly took out part of the roof. Honestly, I’m surprised it took this long, but they need some time apart.”_

“All right. I’ll give them a call. Just… shove one of them in the basement or something in the meantime.” He hangs up and rubs a hand over his face. Truth be told, he’s been debating asking Vergil to come over for a solo visit. He might as well take this for the sign that it is.

“Hey Kyrie,” he calls back towards the kitchen. “How you feel about having Vergil over for… a while, I guess?”

She steps out, a smile in place. “I’m fine with it. You decided to invite him after all.”

“Well, it was sort of decided for me.” He tells her about his brief call with Trish. “Sounds like they’re at each other’s throats so I need to separate them.”

“That didn’t take long.”

“It took longer than Trish and I were expecting.” Nero snorts. “The sooner he comes down the better, before they break the shop even more.” He pauses, and his thoughts turn to a place he’d been trying to avoid. “Assuming he wants to come.” Nero can’t exactly force him. He just hopes that he’ll want to. Or at least want to get away from Dante enough. He shrugs, trying not to let his doubts drag him down.

Kyrie walks over to him and wraps her arms around him, laying her head against his shoulder. “I think he will. Christmas went well, aside from what happened that one night. And there are still things you need to talk about.”

Nero holds her close, pressing his cheek against her hair. She’s not wrong. He still needs some answers. He knows a lot of what’s happened to his father, but there’s one thing he still doesn’t know anything about: his mother. Nero hasn’t worked up the nerve to ask about her. Dante had told him he’ll have to ask, which just feeds into Nero’s existing nervousness. He once had written her off as a deadbeat who didn’t want him, but now that might no longer be the case. The few hints he’d gotten from Dante paint a much different picture than the one he’d formed in his head. He had spent so many years trying not to care about her. Now he can’t help but want to. But with that comes new fears and new chances for disappointment.

“Nero.” Kyrie leans back to look at him. “It’ll be all right.”

He swears she can read his mind. He smiles and leans his forehead against hers. “Yeah. Let me call them. If they’re not dead already.”

\--

Let it never be said that Dante won’t answer the phone at Devil May Cry, no matter what’s going on. No storm, emergency, disaster, or any number of swords sticking into him are going to stop him. Not even the four summon swords that are currently digging into his back and stomach slow him down as he crawls over to the desk and reaches for the receiver. “Ow, goddamn it,” he mutters as he grabs it. “Devil May Cry.”

Vergil glares at him from across the room, half tempted to land another one in him but refrains. It wouldn’t be professional.

Dante slides back onto the floor, a smile blooming on his face. “Hey, Nero.” There’s a pause, and then he makes an annoyed sound. “No, I – okay, yeah, we’ve been a little…” He sighs as he listens. “…yes, he’s alive. As am I, thanks for asking.”

Vergil rolls his eyes.

Dante lifts his head. “Yeah, he’s here. One sec.” He holds out the phone. “For you.”

_Nero wishes to speak with me?_ Vergil mentally backhands the nerves the creep up on him as he walks over and takes the phone from Dante. He holds it to his ear and says, “Hello, Nero.” Thank everything that his nervousness doesn’t carry into his voice.

_“Hey. I’d ask how it’s going but I’ve already heard.”_

Vergil sniffs indignantly. “Things are as well as they can be.”

_“That’s not saying a lot when it comes to you two.”_

“We’re handling it.”

_“By beating the shit out of each other. How many swords does Dante have in him right now?”_

Vergil isn’t sure whether he should be glad about how well Nero knows them. “A few.”

There’s a long sigh from the other end. _“Get down here.”_ There’s a pause, and with just a hint of hesitation he adds, _“If you want.”_

He does want to, actually. He just wonders if Nero really wants him to, or if he’s only offering because he’s fighting with Dante. “It isn’t necessary. I don’t need to be separated like-”

Dante shouts in frustration. “Oh just _go._ You’ve been hoping he’d ask you for weeks and I’m pretty sure he’s been meaning to so _just go before one of us dies._ ”

Nero snorts. _“You do need to be separated. And yeah, I’ve been meaning to ask. Figured I’d wait for the right time. You can sleep in the van so you’ll have your own space.”_

…okay, they’re all valid points and Vergil can’t argue them. “Very well. When are you able to receive me?”

_“Well, by the time you-”_ He laughs. _“Damn it, I keep forgetting about Yamato. Uh, you can come on Friday. Just so we have a bit of time to get food and get the van ready. Try not to kill each other before then.”_

“I make no promises.”

_“…Dad.”_

There’s that heartstring being tugged at again. Nero has a sway over him that he had severely underestimated. He can’t quite argue with him the way he can with Dante. “Fine. I will refrain. So long as he does.”

He can practically hear the eye roll. _“See you Friday, then. Make sure to pack. You_ have _bought more clothes by now, right?”_

“Yes,” Vergil snaps. He really dislikes how Dante and Nero treat him like a child sometimes. He’s a grown adult! (One that needs a lot of supervision and is still acclimating to life in the human world, but he tends to ignore that). “…though now that I think on it, I don’t have a suitcase.”

“I have one you can use,” Dante offers.

Vergil aims a suspicious look at him.

“It’s fine!”

“We’ll see about that.”

_“I’ll see you Friday. No murdering each other or I’m disowning the survivor.”_ Nero hangs up before any more arguments are thrown his way.

Vergil does the same. “I’ll be going to Fortuna come Friday. Nero threatened to disown the one who murders the other in the meantime.”

“Kid knows where to aim his blows.” Dante slowly sits up. Vergil makes the summon swords disappear. “How long you staying?”

“I don’t know. He didn’t say. I assume it won’t be a short visit. Or…” Is he assuming wrong? He really doesn’t know. He should have asked. Does he call and inquire? Does he just show up and hope to figure it out?

Dante laughs as he gets to his feet. “Just play it by ear. It’s not like you can’t pop back here immediately.” He stretches out his back. “You should stay a few weeks. His birthday’s coming up.”

“The twenty-fifth, yes?”

“That’s the date they use. It’s somewhere around that time.”

It bothers Vergil that they have no way of knowing. The only person who would know is… well, she’s likely dead. And it bothers him even more than he doesn’t know what happened to her. Old habits make him clutch his pendant in thought.

“…has he asked about her?”

Vergil lifts his head, and then shakes it. “No. I thought he would have by now.”

“He will. Just has to work up the nerve.” He gestures. “Come on, you should start packing. In my perfectly suitable suitcase, which is totally suited for packing.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

\--

The suitcase is, in fact, quite suitable for packing. Vergil rather dislikes the design, but it’s functional and he doesn’t quite have the money to buy his own right now. It’ll have to be his next major purchase. Which he will save up for, like an adult. Something his brother has never quite grasped.

Friday comes, and Vergil stands in front of Dante’s desk, suitcase on the floor and Yamato in hand. Dante sits in his chair, very much alive as Vergil promised, with his feet propped up on the desk. “You got everything?” he says with a yawn.

“Yes.” His clothes and necessities are packed, along with a few books. “Anything I am missing I can acquire there.”

Dante waves. “Tell them all I said hi and I’ll pop by sometime soon. Probably around his birthday. I’m sure Kyrie will be doing something for it, and there’ll be a cake.”

A Kyrie-made cake _does_ sound delicious if Vergil’s being honest. He’s gotten as hooked on her cooking as Dante has, and with good reason. “I suppose we will see each other then.” And hopefully that’ll be enough time apart that they’ll be less… prickly around each other. With a nod, Vergil opens a portal with Yamato. He grabs his suitcase and steps through without looking back; he and Dante aren’t big on drawn-out goodbyes, and they’re more than ready to be rid of each other at this point.

The in-between pockets of reality disorient those who aren’t accustomed to them. Vergil’s traveled through them so many times by now that he hardly notices the mental buzzing that comes with being in these spaces. He keeps walking until he comes out the other side. Bright sunlight and the rustling of leaves in the wind greet him as he steps out into Fortuna, specifically in Nero’s backyard.

He turns and sees Nico out on the back porch, smoking a cigarette. To her credit, she doesn’t jump when she sees him come through the portal. But then again, she’s probably used to the craziness that comes with this family. “Hey, Nero!” she calls back towards the house. “He’s here.”

As Vergil approaches the house, he sees one of the children pop his head into view of the back door window. He is relatively certain it’s Kyle, the loud one. The child waves enthusiastically. Vergil is rather glad his hands are full so he has an excuse not to wave back. He does, at least, nod in acknowledgment.

“Vergil.” Nico says in greeting.

“Nicoletta.” His nose scrunches as the wind blows her cigarette smoke towards him. Okay, now he kind of regrets having his hands full because he can’t wave the smoke away.

The back door opens. Nero steps out, and there’s a small smile on his face. “Hey. Come on in, Kyrie’s almost done with breakfast.”

There’s a warm feeling that settles in Vergil’s chest when he sees the smile. Nero almost always scowls, and he really didn’t expect such a comparatively friendly greeting. It’s sad how unused he is to people being happy to have him around. Even for all that he and Dante fight, at the end of the day his brother still seems glad to have him there. He’s still not sure what to _do_ with that. With a shake of his head, he follows after Nero. _Save the thoughts for later. Be in the present right now._

\--

After Vergil’s settled and breakfast is eaten, he finds himself standing rather awkwardly in the living room, unsure as to what to do next. _Do I find Nero and try to talk? Perhaps he’s busy. Should I have come later in the day? I should have asked beforehand. I need to start a list and write these things down for next time-_

Fortunately, the silently panicking Vergil is saved by Nero walking in. “So… you just got here and this isn’t great timing, but you might want to hunker down in the van for a bit.” He looks apologetic as he continues. “There’s a couple that’s coming over. They’re adopting Carlo, so they’re coming by to pick him up. It’s… I’m not sure how it’s gonna go.”

Vergil tilts his head. “Isn’t it a good thing he’s being adopted?”

“It is, and I’m… you know, I’ll miss him and all, but it’s not like I can’t see him. I’m just more worried about how _he’s_ gonna take it. He’s only five and he’s used to living here.”

This upcoming meeting sounds like an emotional maelstrom that Vergil absolutely does not want to be in. It’s not like he’ll be of any help, and he’s certain his presence would just make things awkward, which is the last thing they need. “Then it’s best if I’m not here.” At least Nero seems to agree on that point. “But rather than be in the van, I will take a walk.” There’s a place he’s been meaning to go to, and he wants to take the chance now to visit.

There’s an unreadable emotion that crosses Nero’s face. He slowly nods. “I can come get you when it’s done. Where you gonna be?”

“On the western side of the island.” He picks up Yamato from its perch against the couch. “Have you ever been down near the cliffs there, off from the river side?”

Nero nods again, though this time it’s accompanied by a frown. “Yeah.”

Vergil walks to the door and opens it. Sure, he could open a portal with Yamato, but he has time to kill. And he wants to make the trip on foot, just like he did when he first came here over two decades ago. “I’ll be there. Look for a group of trees at a cliff’s edge. I’ll be in the clearing below.”

“Where that weird door is?”

Vergil nods. “Yes, that one.”

\--

It’s as long of a journey as he remembers. The locals regard him with the same suspicious stares, and he hears the same nervous whispers behind his back. He huffs out an amused laugh as he leaves the town proper. The last time he walked this way, he had done so with the thought of how the people here might come to regard him with the same level of fear and reverence they gave his father, once he had obtained his power. Now, though? He walks this way to just remember.

The same worn paths wind its way through the wilderness beyond the city’s walls, leading him near the western coast. He diverts off the path, traipsing over grassy knolls until he comes to the edge of a cliff that overlooks a small ravine. A path circles from where he stands down to the bottom, where built into the cliff face is an enormous ornate door.

Rather than taking the path, Vergil jumps down. Dust kicks up from where he lands. The clearing is quiet as he walks towards the door. Large circles stand in a triangle on the door’s face. Intricate runes and glyphs fill each circle. Their power has long since drained, and the door is unlocked.

Vergil stares at it, his grip on Yamato tightening. Emotions he’s kept at bay for months begin to trickle out. He had avoided them because he hadn’t been ready to face them. He’s not sure if he even is now, but he knows he must. He swallows thickly, head bowed. He closes his eyes and allows himself to remember.

* * *

About twenty-five years ago, Vergil stood in front of that same door. But back then, the door was locked and the runes that protected it glowed brightly with their sealing power. He frowned at them, not having expected to come across this obstacle. “Clearly, something of worth lies in here,” he murmured to himself. “But how to open it? These sorts of runes usually open when a particular pattern is traced or an incantation spoken.” _Damn it, I should have combed over the town’s library before coming here_.

To his left, he sensed rifts opening up. He spun on his heel and unsheathed Yamato. Demons lurched out from the rifts, cackling menacingly as they circled him. He snorted in derision, twirling his sword before he kinda-sorta-teleported at the nearest one. Yamato sliced it in half, sending its top half colliding into a nearby demon. Before they even realized what happened, he was already cutting through another one. He darted between them, eviscerating them with ruthless efficiency and speed. Once the last one fell, Vergil spun Yamato and carefully slid it back into its sheath. He exhaled slowly through his nose and turned back towards the door.

Something rustled in the foliage above him.

_How did I miss one?_ Vergil quickly turned, hand on Yamato’s hilt. But when he found where the rustle came from, he was taken aback.

On the cliff above him, a young woman was watching him. She laid flat on the ground, eyes wide in wonder. Her head snapped up in alarm when she realized she had been spotted. “Oh _shit_ ,” she swore as she furiously scrambled back.

There was so much that was strange about it that for just a second, Vergil stood there in shock. In rapid succession, a number of questions blurred across his mind: _Who was that? Why is she here? Why was she watching?_

Normally Vergil could care less about the going-ons of humans, but this directly concerned him and frankly, he was baffled. So, he temporarily abandoned his quest to open the door and leapt up the cliff. He scaled it in two bounds, clearing the top with a graceful leap. He shoved the bushes aside as he clambered through the copse of trees that obscured his view. In seconds, he came out on the other side.

Twenty feet in front of him, the young woman had gathered up her things and turned to make a run for it. She gasped and stumbled back. Her bag swung wildly, almost coming off her shoulder. A gun was tucked into one of the bag’s pouches, but she made no reach for it. She simply stood frozen for a beat before she laughed nervously. “Huh. Uh, wow, you made it up here super-fast. I thought I’d at least have a head start before you chased me down and stuck me with that really cool katana.” She stepped to the side, ready to bolt. “Hey, I won’t say anything to anyone, I promise. I just wanted to see what was going on. This whole trip has gone sideways between the locals being a nightmare and then those – those _creatures_ showing up and attacking me. Which you seem to be able to just chop up and I don’t even-”

“ _What_ ,” Vergil cut her off before she could keep ranting, “are you doing here and why were you watching me?”

Her back stiffened, but she forcefully relaxed her muscles in an attempt to appear calm. “I’m a big traveler. A historian if you want to be pretentious about it.”

“A historian,” he repeats in a disbelieving tone.

“Sort of. I love history, and I write down stuff I’ve found, but honestly it’s just an excuse to travel and not have to be an actual adult with a boring-ass job that I hate.”

Vergil couldn’t exactly judge her. He was more or less doing the same thing, if for entirely different reasons, so he just nodded.

The girl continued, “I heard about this island when I was in Karamina Port. With all the legends and stories that surround this place, I couldn’t _not_ come see.” She gestured towards the clearing below. “I read up on the ruins around here and came to investigate. But those things attacked me.” She pulled out her gun halfway. “I emptied an entire chamber into one of them and it barely did anything. I’ve been trying for two days to find a way around. Then today, I showed up to try again and… well, there you were.”

“And you decided to watch?”

“Look, I might be here to learn about old stuff, but there was no way I wasn’t gonna eyeball some guy going full-on shounen protagonist on… okay, what _were_ those things?”

Vergil considered her. He disliked consorting with humans, but while he had no qualms about killing as needed to reach his goal, he rarely did so unnecessarily. He had no interest in harming this girl. “Demons,” he answered. “And a basic revolver will do next to nothing against one. You’d need considerably more firepower to harm one.”

Her brow shot up. “…Demons? You’re-” Another nervous laugh. “So, they’re actually real?”

“Did you think those were animals?” he asked in a mildly condescending tone.

“No,” she answered flatly in response. “Not unless there are some movie-level nuclear fallout hijinks taking place here.”

“Then what else could they be?”

“Monsters? Creatures conceived and grown in tubes by a mad scientist in a lab somewhere? I mean, if we’re considering theological and fictional sources here, they could be a _lot_ of things.” She shook her head. “Although there are doors with magic seals and a supposed gate to hell here. Maybe I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“They’re demons,” Vergil said with finality. “I’ve dealt with them for years.”

“Well, this is certainly turning into _a day._ ” She tucked some of her hair behind her ears. “So. Are you going to stab me or…?”

“No. You would be wise to leave before more show up.”

She relaxed. “Okay… but what _are_ you going to do then?”

Vergil turned to head towards the clearing. “Figure out how to open that door.” He was done talking with her.

Or he was, until she said, “What if I told you I already know how?”

He stopped and looked back. “You know how to undo those seals?”

“Sure.” She dug into her bag and pulled out a book. “Found this at the library. There’s an incantation or something you have to say, and a pattern you have to move your hands in. If you do it right, it should open.”

Vergil gestured to the clearing. “Then open it. We’ll see if your book is right.”

She nodded and confidently strode down the path that wound down towards the clearing. Vergil followed behind her. It was slow, but it gave him a chance to regard her more.

_What a strange girl,_ he thought as they walked. She couldn’t be much older than him, if she even was, and yet she walked around strange places alone with only a gun to protect herself with. He gave her a morsel of credit for having the sense to carry a weapon, even something as inferior as a gun. He wasn’t sure if she was brave or just stupid for not running away for good the first time she saw a demon, especially after being attacked. _Dedicated to her mission, I suppose. But rather foolish, all things considered._

They came up to the door. Vergil hung back a few feet to watch the girl. She read the book in her hands carefully, glancing up at the door and back at it a few times. Then she lifted up a hand and began to trace a pattern over the seals. She spoke words which sounded like Latin as her hand moved. It took about a minute before she finished, placing her hand in the space between the circles. There was silence for just a second, and then the door groaned in protest as it opened.

“Ta da,” she said with a little smile.

She just cut hours, if not days’ worth of work for Vergil. “You came prepared.”

“I read up on them first. That’s how I found out about the seals. First time I’ve had to mutter Latin at ruins to get inside them.”

This girl was more read up on this place than he was; that much was clear. He supposed he could take that book from her and figure it out for himself, but that would be a waste of time. Why read up on it when she already knew? She was clearly not a potential threat, and in a way, they were both after the same thing, though for vastly different reasons. “There are other places on this island I want to see. Do you know how to get into them as well?”

“If you mean the rest of the ruins supposedly around here, then yeah.” She shut the book. “If you’re looking to investigate about the Order of the Sword, though, you’re on your own. Their headquarters are on the other side of the island and are heavily guarded. There’s the castle as well, but I know less about that.”

He waved it off. “They do not concern me.” So long as they didn’t get in his way. “Perhaps we can come to an arrangement.”

She raised a brow at him.

“We both have something the other needs. You know how to get through these ruins. And I know how to dispatch the demons. They’ll keep appearing, I can assure you. You get us into those ruins, and in exchange, I’ll keep the demons off of us.”

“So basically, I’ll be the tour guide moonlighting as a lockpicker, and you’ll be the bodyguard.”

“That’s… one way of putting it.”

“I think I can agree to that.” She held out her hand to shake on it.

A little more touchy-feely than he liked, but Vergil needed to play nice. He shook her hand. Her fingers were surprisingly calloused, but her palms were warm and soft.

“All right then,” she said with a grin. “Onwards. We – oh.” She laughed. “If we’re gonna be working together, we should exchange names, huh?”

It would beat him calling her ‘the girl’ the entire time. “Vergil.”

There was a brief bit of surprise at the name; it wasn’t an uncommon reaction. But she quickly schooled it. “I’m Melanie. But you can just call me Mel.” Her smile widened. “Nice to meet you, Vergil.”

* * *

Vergil opens his eyes when he hears someone approach. The wind is still, and so the sound carries from the cliff above. He watches as the bushes rustle and someone moves through the trees.

And where Mel had once laid, watching Vergil fight demons so many years ago, now kneels her son, watching his father curiously. He glances at the door. “You know about that?” he shouts down from the clifftop.

“It leads into a forgotten structure that was built into these cliffs. They pre-date my father’s time here, but he made use of them when he lived in this town.”

“Is this what you came here for? The first time you were in Fortuna?”

“Among other things.” Vergil walks towards the cliff, bounding up it in seconds. He lands a few feet from Nero. “You’re here earlier than I expected.”

“They arrived a bit early, and Carlo took it better than we expected.” Nero rubs the back of his head as they both begin to walk. “We’ll see if that lasts, though.”

Vergil nods, unsure of what else to say. Silence falls between them as they head onto the path. For a second, Vergil considers offering to transport them back with Yamato, but he decides against it. He should allow them a chance to talk, right? That’s part of the reason he’s here, besides getting away from Dante. And in truth, he hopes Nero will ask about why he had come to the cliff door. _Surely he’s curious?_ It can then lead into talking about Mel.

Nero looks over at him, and Vergil can all but hear the question on his lips. He’s ready to respond, but then… Nero just looks back the other way and stays quiet. Vergil frowns. _Why won’t he ask? Should I just – no, Dante said to let him set the pace. I just thought he would have asked by now._

The two continue their walk back to town. Neither speak the entire time.


	3. First Steps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When, for once, Nero is the one who's being emotionally constipated.

“You’re avoiding your father.”

Nero slides a look at Nico as they walk home from the market. “No, I’m not. I hung out with him a lot yesterday.”

“Yeah, but you two barely talked. And for once it wasn’t him being the socially inept one.”

“Just… didn’t have anything to talk about.” And Nero immediately wants to smack his head for how stupid that sounds.

He’s not the least bit surprised when Nico immediately calls him out on it, “Yeah you do, dumbass, and that’s all the more proof that you’re avoiding talkin’ to him!”

“I just… I don’t know where to start. I don’t know how to start. And what if it’s…”

Nico’s annoyance drains from her face as she looks ahead. “You’re afraid you’ll be disappointed, right?”

“…yeah.” He rubs the back of his head.

“Been there, trust me. Learnin’ about my father was one of the shittiest conversations I ever had. My uncle tried softenin’ the blow, but there’s no real good way of saying he ditched my mom and I for some stupid cult.” Nico doesn’t bother tacking on a ‘no offense’ and Nero’s glad she doesn’t. He’s never wanted her to apologize for how she sees the Order. He doesn’t blame her. Hell, he can’t exactly say he likes them anymore, not after what happened. “Point is, I get it. But puttin’ it off isn’t gonna help. You just gotta plunk your butt down and ask him.”

She’s right, and he knows it. But as he mulls over what to say, he’s stopped by someone calling out to him. He turns and sees a couple approaching him. Nero nudges to Nico to stop walking before he waves at the pair. “Hi. How’s Carlo doing?”

“He’s starting to settle in,” the woman says as she looks up at her partner. “He and Henley are getting along great. They built a little pillow fort in the living room yesterday. It was so cute.”

The man – Henley – chuckles a little. “Not that I got to be in it much. Carlo insisted that I pretend to try and break into it while he pelted me with pillows.”

“Yeah, he’s a little scamp like that.” Nero smiles fondly. He misses Carlo, but at least he’s doing well in his new home.

Nico shifts her weight from one leg to another; Nero remembers that she hasn’t met these two. She’d been out in the garage while Carlo was being adopted. “Oh, right. Uh, Nico, this is Captain Henley and his wife, Scarlet.”

He sees the way she subtly braces herself. She’s an outsider, even for how long she’s been living with Nero and Kyrie. She’s not usually received warmly. “Hi.”

Thankfully, Henley and Scarlet smile and greet her in return.

“Henley is the one leading the Order these days,” Nero says carefully. He silently hopes Nico can keep her disdain contained long enough for the conversation to finish.

“Oh. Uh…” Nico struggles with what to say; Nero can all but hear what she _really_ wants to say. “That sounds like a… lot?”

“It isn’t the easiest job, no. But I’m primarily just dealing with the guards. Most of the Order is gone, so it could be worse.” Henley looks back at Nero. “I heard your father is in town.”

“He is.” It’s Nero’s turn to be the one who feels a little unsure. Word has gotten out that Nero found his family, but he has yet to see how the townspeople will react to them. “He’ll be staying a little while.”

“Through your birthday, I hope?” Scarlet asks.

Nero nods. “I think so.”

Something uneasy flashes across Henley’s face. Nero says nothing about it, revealing to no one that he saw it. He wonders what it means, but he decides it’s best for now to not say anything. They adopted Carlo; the last thing Nero wants is to the rock to the boat with them.

Henley musters another smile. “That’s good. I’m glad you connected with your family, Nero. You’ve been without for too long.”

“Yeah. Not something I expected.” He had hoped for it when he had been little. But he had given up on that dream long before he even had met Dante. It’s still strange to remember that he has a father and uncle. “Hopefully I can learn more about my mother, now that my father is here.”

Henley’s face goes blank, and this time it’s a fight for Nero to not say anything. Before he can even decide what to do, the captain says, “Be careful, Nero. I understand wanting to learn about your past, but you might not be happy with what you find.”

At that discouragement, Nico bristles, throwing off her usual cautionary manner regarding the Fortuna townsfolk as she snaps, “Hey, what the hell? If he wants to learn about his mother, let him. He’s gone long enough without knowing.”

Henley holds up his hands defensively. “I meant no offense. I just don’t want Nero to go charging into this and not being prepared for what he might learn.”

His wife, sensing this conversation is doomed, puts her hand on his arm. “We should get going. Carlo isn’t used to my mother yet so we shouldn’t keep them alone for long. It was nice talking to you again, Nero.” She smiles to him as she takes her husband by the elbow to lead them away.

Nero and Nico watch the couple depart. Though they’re out of earshot, they can still Scarlet whisper something to Henley. Her expression reveals the irritation that her words are probably conveying.

“What the hell was that about?” Nico asks.

“No idea.” But Nero feels even more uneasy about asking Vergil about his mother. Henley had made a good point. He may not like what he finds. His desire to learn about his mother matches the fear he has about what he might unearth. What if-

Nico elbows him forcefully. “Hey. Don’t listen to him. You know you need to ask. Even if it’s not all rosy, you’ll feel better for knowing in the end. Trust me, okay?”

It’s harder than he wants to admit, but he manages to nod and accept her words. “Okay.”

“Come on, let’s get home. Get yourself psyched up to talk to him about your mama on the way there.”

“How do I do that?”

“By telling yourself as many times as it takes to just fucking ask him.” Nico smiles and shrugs. “It’s that easy.”

He doesn’t see how that’s easy at all.

\--

It takes him over an hour after he gets home to work up the courage to approach his father in the living room. Nero eyes his father uneasily as he sits in the armchair, reading a book. He knows he needs to ask why he had gone to those ruins yesterday, because he knows it might have something to do with his mother. He remembers the expectant look Vergil had given him when they left the ruins, but Nero had chickened out at the last second.

_I’ve got to stop stalling. Dante said it’ll be fine, that I want to know about her._ And sure, his uncle had lied to him for five years, but he supposes that it hadn’t been entirely unjustified, so there’s no reason not to trust him now. _And Nico said the same. She’s right, I’ll be better off knowing than not knowing. Whatever I learn, I can handle it._ He inhales deeply before he steps into the living room and takes a seat on the couch.

Vergil looks up from his book.

Nero starts wringing his hands, but he forces himself to stop. He wants to bring up something random, anything at all, but he has to do this. He has to take this step and, in the wise words of Nicoletta Goldstein, _just fucking ask him_. “So, uh… what were you – why’d you go back to that place yesterday?”

His father sets his book down and takes a silent, deep breath of his own. “I wanted to see it again. I spent a lot of time there.”

“Why?” Nero asks a bit incredulously.

“There’s a library inside. We spent a lot of time in there going through the books.”

Nero’s heart hammers in his chest. “We?”

There’s a pregnant pause. Vergil looks a bit… sad? Just for a moment, and then it passes. Quietly, he answers, “Yes. Your mother and me. Back at the cliff, where you were crouching was the same spot where I first saw her.”

“…oh.” It’s an underwhelming understatement, but Nero’s emotions are stuck in a logjam. He swallows thickly, looking away. This is it, the opening he needs to start this conversation, but he’s so damn frightened. In the TV’s reflection, he sees Nico and Kyrie watching them from the dining table. Nico gestures and mouths at him to keep talking and ask. Nero’s hands clasp tightly together. _Come on, just – just start it. Just ask something. Something easy and simple. Like…_ “What was her name?”

“Melanie. She preferred Mel, though.”

_Mel, huh?_ Not what he would have guessed, but he likes it all the same. “What – why was she there? Dante told me that you said she was an outsider. So why was she poking around?”

“She wanted to explore the ruins here. She’d been traveling for a couple of years, looking into historical sites and exploring them if they piqued her interest. She heard about the history here and came to see it for herself. But when she tried to enter those ruins, she was attacked by demons.” He must have caught a glimpse of worry in Nero’s expression, because he quickly adds, “From what I understand she avoided injury and escaped, but she was blocked from getting inside. At least until I came along.”

“Did she see you fighting them?”

“She did. When I learned she knew how to get into the ruins, we came to an agreement. She would get us into them, and I would dispatch of any demons that showed up.”

“So, you had a little business arrangement.” God, none of this is shaping up in any way that he imagined, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing. Just surprising. And now that they’re talking, the nerves have begun to ease. Time to take another step. “What was she like?”

There’s a faint smile on Vergil’s face as he leans back in the armchair. “I could list out her traits, such as I knew them, but allow me tell you about something that happened shortly after we met. I think it could paint a far better picture.”

* * *

“Oh, look,” Mel muttered, dryly sarcastic. “We have encountered – surprise – even _more twisting hallways._ ”

The ruins were surprisingly large and built like a maze. Vergil and Mel spent three entire days trying to navigate them, only to get hopelessly lost. It was dusk by the time they made it out the first day, and the following two hadn’t been much better.

Vergil considered himself a decent enough navigator, but this confounded him. His frustration finally leaked out as he looked to his right, only to stare down the hallway that led to the entrance. They had gone in a circle _again_. “We’ve been down every hall and path in this place. _How_ have we not found anything?” _Has this all just ben a colossal waste of time? But why put the seals on the door then?_

“The book says that these ruins were used for many things over the centuries: hosting secret meetings, providing refuge during attacks, storing tomes, and even serving as the grounds for demon worship.” Mel chuckled. “Not sure how much of that is true, but they’re definitely important enough that the locals consider them sacred – and dangerous.” She looked around them. “Point is… if they’re that important, then there might be more than one method of security at play.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning… we’re missing something.” She gestured. “We keep looking for an obvious door. But maybe the entrance isn’t so obvious.”

_A hidden entrance. Perhaps…_ “We’ve hardly seen anything that would hide such a thing.”

“It’s all in the imagination, Vergil.” Mel taps the side of her head. “Put yourself in the shoes of whatever questionably sane individual designed this place.”

“Mel-”

“Bear with me. You build this place, make it a maze so those not familiar with it – intruders most likely – get lost and can’t find the entrance. Either in hopes they get so lost they die in here or just to be discouraged enough to give up.” She smiled cryptically at him. “So, where do you put the door?” But as she asked that, intentionally frustrating and forcing him to think, she leaned against a wall and rested her elbow against an empty sconce. A moment later, the sconce moved. Mel immediately leaned away from it, and before she could say anything, the wall behind her opened. She fell back and swore. Vergil couldn’t see her after that, but he did hear a soft thud, followed by a louder swear.

He walked over to where she had been standing. She made for a humorous sight: sprawled out on the floor, one leg sticking out from her failed attempt to catch her fall. And Vergil, being a little asshole, said in a deadpan tone, “Can’t figure it out, Mel. Where _do_ I put the door?”

She glared at him. “Har har.” She righted herself, still frowning at him. She then grinned and laughed. “Okay, yeah, that was kind of funny. I was going with ‘right next to the entrance because no one wants to have to walk through all those damn halls’. Which technically, I was right.” She rubbed her bottom. “At the expense of my ass.”

And he was done with the moment. He already lost enough time wandering this place. “Let’s proceed. Given all the trouble we’ve gone through, there better be something worthwhile in here,” he said as he stepped around her.

“I can’t imagine there isn’t _anything._ Unless these people have that twisted a sense of humor,” she said as she followed behind him. “Which… fat chance. Most of ‘em are sticks in the mud.”

Vergil said nothing, instead concentrating on walking through the long, dark hallway. It went on for a few minutes, long enough that he began to wonder if they hadn’t just come across another maze. Then faint light appeared up ahead. He hurried his steps, unconcerned if Mel could keep up.

The hall opened up into a cavernous room. Cracks in the ceiling shed just enough light to get a good look at the room. Shelves were carved into the rock face, and each of them were stuffed to the brim with books, tomes, and scrolls. A few large tables with chairs dotted the room, dusty with age and lack of use. Faded banners with the Order’s insignia hung evenly spaced around the room. Some were moldy and dilapidated from water damage. In two corners were stacked a myriad of boxes and crates, covered haphazardly with sheets and blankets in a vain attempt to keep the dust off.

“Wow...” Mel looked around in awe. “Well, Vergil? Do you consider this worthwhile?”

“That depends entirely on what is in those books.” But it was certainly a good start. “I… didn’t expect quite this much.”

“It’s a whole library down here. And a meeting place. At least two of the stories are true.” She walked over to one of the shelves, running her fingers gently over the pages of the tomes there. “It’ll be interesting to see what’s in these.” She turned to him. “So… where do we start?”

* * *

Nero’s smiling when Vergil finishes. He had spoken about her with a certain fondness, and from what little Nero’s now heard, his mother does sound like someone he wants to know more about.

“Huh.” Nico regards Nero from her spot at the table. “Tries to look cool but ends up looking like a dork instead. Now we know where you get it from.”

“Who the hell are you calling a dork?” Nero shoots back.

“Uh, _you_ , dork extraordinaire.”

“Whatever.” There’s no accounting for Nico’s logic. He turns back to Vergil. “Were you still thinking of going back into those ruins?”

He nods.

“I think I wanna come along. I’d like to see them.”

“You don’t have any issue with going in there?”

Nico laughs. “Have you _met_ him? You think he cares if something is sacred or not?”

“Would you shut up?” Nero snaps. “We’re not talking to you!”

“I’m contributing!”

And this is when Kyrie steps in. “Nico, would you mind helping me with the laundry? I think I heard the dryer go off earlier.”

“But-”

“Please.” Out comes a smile, one that’s seemingly friendly but beneath the surface implies terrible consequences if there is further argument.

Nero bites on his bottom lip to keep from laughing as Kyrie leads Nico out of the room, the latter looking quite put out. Once they’re gone, he shakes his head. “No, it doesn’t bother me. I’ve always wanted to know what was in there anyway.”

“Then we will return tomorrow.” Vergil picks up his book to start reading it again, but just as he goes to open it, he pauses. He clearly struggles with something, judging by the way his brow keeps furrowing and how he pointedly does not look at Nero.

Nero’s gotten to know him well enough to identify when Vergil’s trying to say something – usually that involves emotions – but can’t quite articulate it. “What is it?” Usually asking him outright gets him to say it.

“Why did it take you so long to ask about her?”

…and sometimes how he says things doesn’t always come out sounding great. But he’s still getting the hang of being in social situations, so Nero brushes off the wording and just answers, “Didn’t know what to expect. I wrote her off as a deadbeat who didn’t want me, so I didn’t want anything to do with her. But sometimes… I guess I hoped I was wrong, so I would picture this really wonderful person who I would want to be my mom. I guess I was afraid of being disappointed.”

There’s a considering look on Vergil’s face which Nero’s not quite sure what to make of. But he isn’t going to be bothered if Vergil doesn’t understand. He doesn’t need to. If his father thinks it had taken him too long, well, too damn bad.

“I see,” Vergil finally says. “Then we’ll continue this tomorrow.” And he picks up his book and opens to where he left off.

Nero just… shakes his head a little before getting up. It’s all baby steps, right? And they’ve taken a few today. It’s farther than they were before.


	4. The Library

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nero and Vergil revisit the library, where Nero learns a bit more about his mother. Father and son decide to begin searching for answers.

It’s a long walk to the cliffside. When Vergil had gone there alone, he had reveled in the long distance and the silence it had afforded. But now? That same silence unnerves him.

Vergil always struggles with whether or not to fill the silence. He hates talking just for the sake of talking, but he feels like he’s wasting an opportunity. Also, he’s fairly certain he’s coming across as standoffish or something. But if he forces a conversation then it’ll feel awkward. _Good god_ he remembers why he had always avoided people.

Thankfully, Nero spares him from his dilemma.

“Why did someone think it was smart to put this place so out of the way?” Nero says, his words sounding like a complaint and a criticism at the same time.

“To make it harder to find. It’s designed to discourage and frustrate outsiders who aren’t permitted to enter.”

“And yet they put the entrance to that room right by the doors.”

“I suppose they had had enough of walking themselves by the time they got that far.”

They approach the cliff edge, moving through the trees before jumping to the bottom. It’s just a short trek and then they’re at the door. They push against it, the frame creaking from the effort as it slowly opens.

Vergil hangs back as Nero forges ahead, taking in the place. It’s hard to believe that he used to come to this place nearly every day, once upon a time. It had only been for a handful of months, but he still remembers it distinctly. He remembers that crack in the ceiling above them and the musty smell that greets them.

“This the wall?” Nero asks, pointing to the wall with an empty sconce attached to it.

“That’s it.”

“So, she…” Nero does his best to try and reenact what Mel did. He leans against the wall and places his elbow on the sconce. Unlike his mother, though, he’s ready when the wall moves. He only stumbles a little as the wall swings back. “Pretty cliché hidden entrance.”

“But an effective one.” Vergil walks past Nero and leads them both down the long stretch of corridor. It’s a little surreal for him to be back here; he almost thinks it’s a dream. He runs his fingers briefly along the wall to ground himself.

The library is much the same as Vergil last left it. There’s still a lot of dust everywhere. Only one table and two chairs sport a little less dust than the rest. Vergil’s walking towards them before he even realizes what he’s doing. _How many hours did we sit here, poring over books?_ It’s then that he notices one of those books on the table. He frowns as he slides it towards him. _Did we leave this here? I thought I put them all back._ Then again… Mel had stayed here long after Vergil had left. Maybe she did more reading on her own.

“What’s that?” Nero asks as he walks over.

Vergil shakes his head before opening the tome. It’s about different kinds of demons. The illustrations are rather detailed, considering the tome’s age, and the descriptions are thorough, if a bit fanciful. He idly flips through a few pages. It doesn’t take him long to remember it: he had looked through this one with Mel once, when they had been bored.

“She was studying demons?” Nero muses out loud as he looks over Vergil’s shoulder. “I haven’t seen most of these…” He points to a piece of paper sticking out the bottom of the book. “Looks like a bookmark.”

“Perhaps.” Vergil flips to the page where the paper is stuck. When he does, he freezes in shock.

Mundus’s gaze stares out at them, his marble form etched into the page alongside a long entry. Above the description is his name in large, bold letters. Vergil’s throat goes dry.

Nero slams the book shut.

Vergil snaps his head up to find Nero looking at him with concern. “I’m fine.” He grabs the book. “I don’t know why she was reading about him.”

“Did you tell her about him?”

“I did. I don’t know what else she would have wanted to know.” He takes the tome and walks over to one of the shelves. He doesn’t know which one she pulled it from, but it doesn’t matter. He just wants it gone and out of sight, so he carefully places it on the first shelf he reaches before quickly walking back.

Nero knows how to read his father, so he veers hard towards a change in subject. “So… you said you two were in here a lot?”

“Yes. I couldn’t even begin to count how many of these we read. Or, that I did, anyway. Mel tended to busy herself with other things. Like-” Suddenly he laughs. He walks over to one of the faded tapestries on the wall. He peers behind it. Finding nothing, he moves onto the next, and then the next, until finally he finds what he’s looking for.

Nero follows him. When Vergil lifts the tapestry up for him to see, he tilts his head. “Did she…?” He laughs and looks at Vergil. “Why?”

* * *

_“Why_ are you defacing the tapestry?” Vergil demanded as he watched Mel.

“I’m _not_ defacing the tapestry,” she quipped back. “I’m slightly defacing the rock face. Of which there is hundreds of feet more of that in here.”

“Then why are you defacing the rock?”

Mel smiled, not answering for a minute as she continued doing whatever she was doing.

Vergil scoffed and resumed reading. He didn’t know why he cared about what she was doing. As long as she didn’t interfere, it didn’t matter. Though she made it hard to concentrate, with how often she moved about and talked. She was _exhausting,_ honestly, and he almost regretted partnering up with her. _Perhaps I should end it. This library seems to hold plenty; I’ll find my answers here eventually. I don’t even know why she’s staying around if she’s not-_

“There.” Mel stepped back, finished with her work.

Vergil finally caught a glimpse of what she was doing when she moved away. The tapestry fell back into place a moment later, but it was all the time he needed. He scowled at her. “And you felt the need to carve ‘Mel and Vergil were here’, why?”

“Why not? Someday, someone will come across that and they’ll know that two people named Vergil and Mel came here before they could. It’ll be a little mystery for them.” She smiled and returned to her seat, picking up the book she had been reading earlier before she got restless.

“Rather hypocritical from someone who claims to be a history buff.”

“What does that anything to do with it?”

“You don’t believe in preserving historical sites?”

Mel shut her book and leveled a look at him. “Vergil, to think any ruin or historic site is perfectly preserved is naïve. History trudges on; nothing can stay in a bubble. Besides, we ‘ruined’ the sanctity of this place the moment we stepped into it. You moved books around. Maybe you tore a page without realizing it. You’ve weakened that chair by sitting in it. Nothing that humans put their hands on stays perfect.” She shrugged and tossed her book onto the table. “For all we know, tomorrow the roof will cave in and this place will be gone. Is my little graffiti going to make a big difference in the long run?”

He wasn’t sure why he even brought it up. It wasn’t like he was all that interested in preserving this place, outside of what use it might be to him. “It’s still a ridiculous thing to do,” he groused. “A foolish bit of sentiment that’s entirely unnecessary.”

For a long moment, Mel simply stared at him, her expression unreadable. Then finally she said, with no small amount of sarcasm, “You’re real good at making friends, aren’t you?”

Vergil snorted. “‘Always be ready to speak your mind, and a base man will avoid you.’” Certain that she had no idea what he was referencing, he went back to read his book.

“‘If others had not been foolish, we should be so.’”

Oh. Well then. That was – yeah, he did _not_ expect that at all from her. Vergil’s usual scowl fell for a few seconds, face awash with surprise.

“What?” Mel shot back. “You think you’re the only person who’s ever read Blake?”

“I didn’t peg you to be the reading type.”

“Just because I can’t sit still and read for long periods of time like you can?” Mel grabbed her book and got up to walk around. “I read and walk a lot. I just don’t like to do it in front of others. They complain that I make them nervous, or that I’m distracting.”

Vergil so rarely _talked_ with people this much. Aside from the general disdain he developed for humanity, he was always the shy type, introverted even. The few times he did talk, he found his interests rarely matched with the people he spoke with. So, despite how much he embraced his demonic heritage and eschewed his humanity, he couldn’t help but take the chance to, dare he say, connect with someone. “What have you read?”

“A lot.” Mel smiled. “I’ve tried a bit of everything. I’ve read Emerson, Sojourner Truth, and Wollstonecraft down to the Babysitters’ Club series.” She made a face at _his_ face. “Don’t judge me, they’re fun books!”

“Children’s literature, I’m assuming.”

“Pre-teen stuff.” She began another pass around the room. “Bigger fan of fiction than poetry, but I do like some. I lean a little more modern in that department.” She glanced at him. “Just a fan of Blake or the Romantics in general?”

“Mostly Blake, though I’ve read the works of many of his cohorts.” He read Wollstonecraft as well, along with Paine and their contemporaries. The conversation paused there, and Vergil found himself in the awkward position of trying to move it along. Normally he wouldn’t care, but he actually wanted to talk for once (it was shocking to him, too). “I’m a little… divided when it comes to the modern poets. It depends on the poet in question.”

“I tend to like individual poems more than I do poets, though that being said, I’ve always been a Maya Angelou fan. Hughes is pretty good, too.” She laughed. “And Silverstein, of course.”

Vergil’s mind raced as he tried to remember who that was. _A newer poet? Why haven’t I heard of them?_

“…you’ve never read him?”

“I don’t believe so, no.”

“Not even as a kid?”

He shook his head. “I was reading Blake when I was a child.”

Mel’s face contorted and twisted through so many emotions Vergil couldn’t even begin to pin them. It finally settled on pained resignation. “That explains a few things,” she muttered. “Silverstein’s stuff is aimed at kids, but honestly, they’re great poems for any age. Give him a read when you’re back out on the mainland.”

“I hardly see what I could get from children’s-”

“‘There are no happy endings,’” Mel cut him off, “‘Endings are the saddest part, so just give me a happy middle and a very happy start.’ Might not be as prose-y as Blake or Whitman, but he gets the point across in a fraction of the words and with just as good style.”

He wasn’t entirely sold, but he was less against her idea than before. And it was the first time he ever even considered checking out poetry for children, so that was more than anyone else had ever managed to do with him. “I’ll take a look next time I’m in a library on the mainland, perhaps.”

“Okay, but before we continue, I have to ask.” She held up a finger, her face solemn. “Thoughts on Fitzgerald and Hemingway?”

Vergil made a disgusted face.

“Good. I can continue to associate with you, then. I’d hate to end our partnership over something so tragic.”

* * *

Mel’s words are still carved into the wall, only slightly faded from time. Nero runs his fingers over them. “…did you ever read Silverstein?”

“No. I didn’t exactly have a chance to after I left here.” He had been a little too busy, first with trying to raise the Temen-ni-gru, and then… well, Mundus didn’t exactly have a copy on Mallet Island. But he wants to, once he’s back home.

Nero’s hand lingers over the carving for some time, his scowl deepening in thought. Vergil lets the silence hang, not wanting to rush him. He’s not sure if Nero’s taking in the sight, trying to picture the memory Vergil just told him about, or if he’s struggling with something. Maybe all of them. But Vergil’s not exactly great at helping with that sort of thing – seeing as he’s bad at it himself – so all he can do is wait.

“…what happened to her?” Nero murmurs. When he sees Vergil open his mouth to answer, he shakes his head. “I know you don’t know. But, I want to know. I want to know why she disappeared. And someone in this town has to know something. If she stayed here for that long, there’s no way she went unnoticed.” Suddenly he slams his fist into the wall, just inches from Mel’s carving. “I was left at the orphanage. You say she wasn’t the type to do that. If that’s true… then I want to know why I grew up without my mother.”

“As do I.” Vergil’s never going to be at peace until he learns the truth. He doesn’t expect a happy ending. He’s already resigned himself to Mel’s death. “But Mel and I didn’t associate much with the townspeople. She did a little more so than I, but we kept our distance. I’m not sure where to begin.”

“I don’t know either. But…” Nero steps back from the wall. “Kyrie may know. She’s better connected in the town than I am. She might know who to go to.”

“Let’s start there. Some way or another – through her or other means – this town is going to tell us what happened to her.” Even if he has to tear the place apart, he’ll find the answers. He owes it Nero… and to Mel.


	5. Sleeping Arrangements

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nero and Vergil realize this might not be a quick investigation. Luckily, a job helps distract them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ack, sorry for such a long time between updates. There has been A Lot happening, and I also hit a major case of writer's block. A Lot is still going on but I think I've dealt with the writer's block! Anyway, hope you all are doing well and staying safe.

Kyrie had enthusiastically agreed to help Nero when he asked her to question the townsfolk about anything they might know of his mother. It’s been nearly a quarter of a century since she was last seen, but there are plenty of people here who would remember that time. She’s spent the last three days asking around about her, to some mixed results.

The good news is her search has turned up some information. The bad news is it’s not exactly the information that they need.

“Some do remember her,” she reports to Nero and Vergil in the dining room. They’re standing around the room, arms crossed and listening. Nico’s also present, fiddling with one of the devil breakers. Kyrie leans back in her seat, looking a little apologetic. “She was an outsider, so some of them were a little… evasive about answering. A lot them thought she was a student studying the town’s history.”

“That was the story she used,” Vergil supplies. “It was the only way she could enter the island and stay for any duration.”

Kyrie nods. “That’s one of the few reasons anyone was really allowed in Fortuna when the Order was still in power. She stuck out a bit, apparently. People rarely saw her in the library and she never seemed to study. They thought she was a bad student.”

“…guess they aren’t technically wrong,” Nero mutters.

“A lot of them didn’t even know where she was staying, although Mr. Clemens believes she was staying with Sister Oliva. You remember her, Nero?”

“Yeah.” She’d worn a lot of hats, from what he remembers. Sometimes a sister of the Order, sometimes a teacher, and some even said she used to be a midwife. When Nero was little, she had come by the orphanage a lot and handed out clothes she had knitted for them. She had been a decent person who died when Nero was sixteen. “Most people wouldn’t have let an outsider stay with them, but she might have.”

“Her son’s still alive. Nathaniel, I think. He’s a fisherman, so it’s hard to pin him down, but if I can find him, I’ll try and ask if he knew anything.”

Vergil cuts in, “But did you learn anything about what happened to her? Did someone know?”

Kyrie shakes her head. “No. She just disappeared, as far as they know. Most of them last saw her in the winter. Ms. Sibyl swears she saw her in March, though, wearing a lot of heavy clothes. But no one’s seen her after that.”

“Damn it,” Nero snaps.

“I’ve hardly asked everyone,” Kyrie assures him. “I’ll keep asking around. And if I can find Nathaniel, there’s a good chance he’ll know something. It’s just a waiting game.”

Nico looks up from her project and chimes in with, “What about the Order’s records? If an outsider had a kid and probably… died here, wouldn’t they have some idea?”

“That’s Plan B,” Nero says. He didn’t particularly want to have to break into the old Headquarters to find those files. It would be looking for a needle in a haystack. But if it comes down to it, he will.

The phone rings just then, putting an abrupt end to the meeting. Nero walks over to the living room wall where the phone hangs and looks at the caller ID (unlike Dante, he has a phone that was built in the twenty-first century). He picks up the receiver. “Hey, Dante.”

_“Nero my hero. Got a job for you, kid.”_

Oh good, now he’ll have something to take his frustration out on. “Whaddya got?” He signals to Nico. She nods and grabs the devil breaker, making a beeline for the garage.

Dante gives him the details of the job. _“Shouldn’t be too far of a trip for you. Easy enough job from the sounds of it, but probably gonna be a bit of a headache.”_

“Well, at least I’ll have probably have help. Thanks Dante.” He hangs up. “Kyrie, we got a job. Luckily this one isn’t real far. Should probably be there and back in about a day and a half.”

“Okay. Be careful.”

He’ll say a proper good-bye to her in a minute. First, he turns to Vergil. “You want in?”

“Certainly.”

Nero’s not surprised; Vergil never passes up the opportunity to commit murder on some demons, and he’s probably been getting restless. When Vergil grabs Yamato and heads for the garage, Nero and Kyrie are finally alone. He smiles softly as he leans down to give her a kiss. “We’ll be back soon. Don’t worry too much, okay? Dante says it’s an easy one. And I’ve got my old man with me.”

“It might be fun? I – well, I don’t see much fun in it, but it might be nice for you to do something like that alongside of him. And the trip will give you two a chance to talk more.” A beat, and then she giggles. “So long as Nico doesn’t keep butting in.”

“I’m tossing her out of the van if she does,” he mutters as he kisses her forehead. “See you soon.”

\--

The van rumbles its way along the dirt road, having long since left the main road. The demons had been spotted causing havoc in an old cement factory that some workers were prepping for demolition. They’d been spooked and had run before the demons could cause harm, but now the factory’s unsafe for the workers to return. That’s where Nero and Vergil come in.

The abandoned factory looms in the distance as the Devil May Cry-mobile approaches. Nico parks the van but keeps the lights on, aiming them straight at the entrance. “Have fun searching for ‘em. Factory’s huuuuge and they might feel like playin’ hide and seek.”

“Good thing I’ve always been a good seeker,” Nero jokes as he bumps open the van door. “Used to piss the other kids off something fierce.”

Vergil smiles ruefully as he follows after Nero. He can easily picture that. Nero’s heightened senses from his demonic heritage would have given him something of an unfair advantage. Vergil’s never been one to condone cheating, but really, it’s not like Nero _knew_. It’s not dishonorable if you don’t realize that you have an advantage. His son is _not_ a cheat, thank you very much.

They’re met with a stale odor and a lot of dust as they enter the factory. The place is cavernous, with abandoned machinery and equipment scattered all over its many rooms. They begin to search for the demons, eyes squinting a little to try and make out any possible signs of them in the darkness blanketing the factory interior.

“I’d just start shouting if I knew for sure they weren’t the type to run,” Nero says as they move on from the main floor.

“I thought you were a good seeker,” Vergil says in a deadpan tone.

Even in the dark, he knows Nero’s leveling a (hopefully only) mild glare at him. “Didn’t get to practice much in the dark. In a factory. Looking for demons.”

“True mastery of a skill means you can practice it anywhere, at any time, in any situation.”

“Did I ever say I was a _master_?”

“So you admit to mediocrity.” Vergil’s absolutely just pulling his chain. He allows a smile to slip through, one which Nero fortunately notices just as he’s about to bring out his spectral arms to land one on his father. Vergil just barely sees the telltale blue shimmer of them before they blink out.

“Asshole,” his son mutters. He glances over to the side of the room they’ve just walked into. A large, multi-paned window hangs above a pile of old, broken down boxes that were piled in a corner. There’s just enough moonlight to outline some pillows and blankets stretched out among the boxes. “Someone was sleeping in here?”

Vergil makes an affirmative noise. “Homeless vagrants, I would think. I doubt it was the workers.”

“I can’t imagine sleeping in this place.”

“There are worse places to spend the night.” He nods to the makeshift bed. “At least they had those.”

Nero pauses, a worried look crossing his face. “Something you’re familiar with?”

“Only a small fraction of my life has been spent with a designated bed of my own. I’ve spent plenty of nights without one at all.”

And immediately that worry turns into heartbreak. Vergil just barely refrains from grimacing. _This is what Dante meant by filtering my words_ , he reminds himself. “It’s… not quite as bad as it sounds.” Okay, that had been a lame attempt at comfort. _Why_ is he so terrible at this? “I – for most of my time in Fortuna I had a place to sleep.”

“Where, a tree in the woods?”

Vergil sniffs. “No. On a couch, mostly.” Except for a few certain nights. “Your mother insisted after she learned what my original sleeping arrangements were.”

“Do I even want to ask where?”

* * *

“You’ve been sleeping _here_ the whole time?!” Mel balked when she discovered Vergil’s ‘bed’, which was just a rolled up old sheet tucked away in a corner of the library.

“…I slept in the forest before we-”

Mel shot him a silencing look. “Vergil, come on. You can’t be sleeping here. There’s no reason to.”

“I do not have any other arrangements-”

“But _I_ do. And as it happens, those arrangements of mine came with a small living space, which has a couch. It’s long enough that you should be able to stretch out comfortably.”

A couch sounded pretty nice. Vergil was used to sleeping in less than ideal locations, but it was hard to pass up such a tempting offer. At the same time, at least he had his own space here. He could collect himself at the end of the day and have some time alone. All this time spent with Mel was the most amount of time he had spent in another’s company in… well, _years_. So, it was a choice between either comfort or solitude. “You would be fine with me staying in the same space as you?”

“Is there a reason I shouldn’t be?”

Vergil sighed. “Surely you’re not so naïve that-”

“I _know_ what you’re hinting at, Vergil. Jesus, I’m nineteen, not four. I’ve seen nothing from you that would suggest you’d do that, so yes, I’m comfortable with it.” She picked up her bags and motioned at him. “Come on. We’re losing light and we’ve been at this for long enough. I’ll show you the digs.”

He hesitated, still unsure if that was for the best. They would have to share a space and be on top of each other. Even though it would be a temporary situation, he still hadn’t lived with anyone since he was a child.

“…Vergil? What is it?” Mel smiled a bit uneasily. “I promise I don’t snore that loud…?”

“I don’t know if it would be wise. We would constantly be around each other. There would be little privacy-”

“You haven’t lived with anyone in a while, have you?”

Vergil started a bit at her spot-on intuition. He grumbled a little. “…No, I have not.”

“And you like having your own space.” Mel looked around for a moment. “I like to go out, after I get back. Like after I eat dinner and stuff, I head out. Just to get some fresh air. I’m gone for a little while. So, if you need a breather, you can always take it then. Or if you’re having a real ‘holy shit I cannot _stand_ people’ kind of day, I don’t mind holing up in my room for stretches of time. I mean, I gotta come out for bathroom breaks and all, but despiiiiiite what you may think, I am capable of shutting up.”

She was being considerate, and it said a lot that the gesture shocked Vergil. Someone considering his needs was so bizarre to him. He almost thought that she must be up to something, because why else would she be so thoughtful? But… much like she knew he would not take advantage of her, he knew that she was not trying to deceive him. The past two weeks had taught him that much if nothing else.

“Very well. We will see how this goes.” While he wasn’t entirely convinced it would go smoothly, she made her case well enough to coerce him into giving it a shot. “What exactly is your arrangement?” he asked as he followed her out of the library and back down the long hallway.

“There’s this woman I met shortly after I got here. She’s a nun or something? Anyway, she learned I needed a place to crash. I honestly thought I’d have to hide out in some abandoned building, but she offered this little apartment. She said she usually loans it to house guests of the Order, but she wasn’t expecting anyone for a while so she’s letting me use it.”

“How are you paying her for it? I cannot imagine she’s letting you stay for free.”

“I’m not paying her anything monetarily, but I wouldn’t say for free. She’s been having me help out with small errands and stuff. Sweeping, running for groceries, reading very small print, that kind of thing.” Mel shrugged as they rounded out of the hallway and headed for the large double doors that led into the ravine clearing. “I mean, given that she’s letting me live in an entire apartment without rent or utilities, it’s a hell of a bargain. And she doesn’t expect me to be at her beck and call all day.”

That almost seemed too good to be true, and of course Vergil’s usual cynicism reared its head. “Are you certain that she won’t try to collect on all that generosity later? Perhaps in a way you cannot refuse?”

Mel shrugged. “She didn’t strike me as the type. Honestly, she’s the nicest person I’ve come across in this town.”

“Exactly why you need to keep your guard up.”

“ _God_ you’re such a Debbie Downer,” she said with a laugh. “People can be nice because they’re _nice,_ you know. Not everyone’s got an ulterior motive.” She held up a finger before he could retort with something mocking. “No, I’m not that naïve, I just try not to think the worst of people.”

“Same difference,” he muttered.

“Keep it up and you’re sleeping without a blanket tonight.”

He barely cared about that, but he was less interested in continuing the debate, so he let it die.

It was nearly dusk by the time they reached the town. They long had since grown accustomed to the stares as they passed by. Vergil ignored them; Mel mostly just smiled and nodded, ever friendly even in the face of distrust.

Mel eventually led them into an older building, worn but still well maintained. She dug out the keys and opened the door. It led into a small foyer that stretched down a hallway straight ahead. On the right there was a set of stairs that led up. “Not sure what’s down there, but I’m not keen on finding out. Don’t want to piss off the landlady,” she said as she walked upstairs. They led directly to a door, which Mel also had to unlock. She swung open the door. “Ta da.”

It was definitely on the smaller end of the scale, not more than about 700 square feet. The living room wasn’t too cramped, but the kitchen was shoved off to the side with barely enough standing room for one person. A small dining room was attached to it, sporting a little dining table paired with two chairs. On the far side of the living room were two doors, which Vergil assumed led to the bedroom and bathroom. The apartment was decorated sparsely, with muted colors and a few floral prints and patterns.

“Definitely screams ‘decorated by a middle-aged woman’ huh?” Mel said as she walked inside. She set her bags down on the floor by the coffee table.

“Yes, although far less gaudy than I was expecting.”

“Ah. Expecting something more like ‘grandma’s house’?”

“I suppose.” He never had a grandmother to visit, so he hardly would know from personal experience. But he had seen such homes, and he had been preparing himself for the worst.

“There’s your bed,” Mel said, nodding to the couch. “But I’ll get you a blanket and pillow later. You hungry?”

He didn’t _need_ food, but he wouldn’t pass it up if offered. “I could eat.”

“Okay. We’ll have to go out and find something.”

Vergil gestured to the kitchen. “You have nothing in there?”

“Well, kind of, but-”

He walked over and started opening cabinets. There wasn’t much, admittedly, but he quickly picked out some ingredients: pasta, milk, cheese, cream, and garlic. He pulled out a pan and turned on the stove.

By that point Mel wandered over to see what he was doing. “You can cook?”

“Yes.” While he didn’t need to eat, he discovered that he rather liked cooking. The methodical process of putting the ingredients together step by step relaxed him, and it was one of the few things he did where he could create rather than destroy. “Pasta alfredo. You are not allergic to anything here, correct?”

“No.” Mel watched him for a few minutes. When Vergil glanced over at her, she smiled. “Hmm. A lit nerd who can fight _and_ cook. Talk about a near perfect package. Careful, I might just have to keep you,” she said with a wink.

The number of times Vergil had participated in the art of flirting could be counted on one hand. Needless to say, Vergil did _not_ anticipate that, and his eyes widened in mild alarm. He tried to summon disdain or something to push her away and avert his embarrassment, but his brain seemed unwilling to function correctly. He wanted to say it was because he was caught off guard, but in truth, it was mostly because she was distracting him with the way her smile widened and laughter lit up her eyes. “I – it’s not that hard to learn,” he barely managed to say as he stared very intently at the pan in front of him.

“Are you offering to teach me?”

“You’re welcome to watch and take notes.”

“All right then.” She took a step closer to him and smiled mischievously. “Teach me, sensei.”

Vergil tried very hard to ignore how his ears burned.

* * *

A screech brings Vergil out of his reminiscing. Before he’s even fully aware of what’s going on, he’s popping Yamato out of its sheath. Nero’s doing the same, drawing the Red Queen off his back. Several more demons shriek in the darkness. Vergil barely makes them out; they’re crawling on the walls and ceiling above, trying to close in around the pair and surround them.

“There’s at least a dozen,” Nero points out as he turns around. “Maybe more. What’re this many demons doing here?”

“It’s possible we’re near a thin point between the realms. They’d be wise to just demolish this place and leave the site be.”

“You wanna try explaining that to the foreman?”

“The proverbial cat is already out of that bag. But that’s for later.” He fully draws out Yamato as the demons ready to drop down on them. “Let us deal with these pests first.”

Said pests hardly pose a challenge. Despite there being nearly two dozen of them, Nero and Vergil dispatch them with considerable ease. They swing and dart around each other, slicing and slamming the demons, making the fight look like child’s play. It’s over in just a few minutes, ending with the last demon trying to make a run for it. Vergil maybe-teleports after it, but just as he goes to swing Yamato, Nero shoots it.

“I was going to eliminate it,” he says as he turns towards his son.

“This was faster,” Nero shoots back, a smirk tugging at his lips as he holsters the Blue Rose. “Come on, we should probably check out the rest of the place before we call it.” He shakes his head a little. “I hope we’re immune to asbestos.”


	6. The Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Melanie finally learns what Vergil is... and what he's up to.
> 
> Vergil has a terrible nightmare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another late update... sorry guys. I'll try to get better about posting more frequently. I got laid off from my job (hated it so I'm not upset and financially I'll be fine, no worries) so on the bright side, I'll have more time to write!
> 
> I also forgot to bring up the timeline of events here. The present day portions of this fic take place in March 2020, as I headcanon DMC5 took place in 2019 (I just chose it because that's when it came out). Vergil's flashbacks with Mel take place in the spring to summer of 1995. So expect a possible few 90s references throughout. There's one in this chapter.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

They clear the factory in about two hours. Not bad for such a large place. Nico had nodded off while they were inside, but she refuses to give up the driver’s seat when Nero offers. “I’m fine!” she insists as she starts up the van. “Seriously. I got two hours in and I’ve got enough coffee in here.” She lifts up her thermos in emphasis. “I’ve worked on less.”

“All right,” Nero says with a shake of his head as he stretches out on the couch. “But if you crash it, you’re payin’ for the repairs. Just saying.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she says, waving him off. “Let’s just get back. Kyrie might only have to wrangle two boys now, but Kyle alone is enough for three people. And you got better shit to be doing.”

Demon hunting is hardly a waste of time, but Nero knows what she’s getting at. He wants to know if Kyrie’s heard more from the townspeople about his mother. He half considers calling her to check but decides against it. It hasn’t even been a day since they left.

Vergil sits in the dining chair, Yamato resting on the table. His eyes stare out the window, but Nero can tell his thoughts are elsewhere. He’s been like that a lot the past few days. Maybe it’s no surprise; he’s been walking down memory lane over and over again. Nero’s still missing pieces to the puzzle that is his father and his checkered past, but he’s slowly putting things together. Thankfully, Vergil has been giving him some of those pieces willingly.

But there _is_ something Nero’s been wondering. Well, he’s been wondering about a lot of somethings, let’s be honest, but there’s one that he’s been wondering about in particular. Once they’re on the road back to Fortuna, he pipes up, “You said you were with my mom a couple of months, right?”

Vergil blinks; it’s the only indication that he hadn’t quite been paying attention. His eyes dart to Nero and he nods. “Yes.”

“Did she know what you were?”

“Ah.” Vergil settles back against the wall. “She did find out. It was just over a month after we met. By that point, I’m fairly certain she knew something wasn’t quite… normal about me. She’d seen me fight a handful of times.”

“She didn’t ask right away?”

“No. She might have been afraid to. Or just didn’t want to risk sounding insane. What she was seeing defied anything she’d ever come across before, so she might not have known how to approach me about it.” There’s a hint of a smile. “But she wound up putting it together. Partly from observation, but a lot of it came from a discovery she made.”

“What did she find?”

* * *

The library held answers, Vergil was certain, but those answers remained well hidden. As much as he liked reading, even he was beginning to dread going in there every day to pour over more tomes and books. That didn’t even begin to describe Mel’s restlessness. She missed exploring, and she seriously considered going off on her own to find more ruins. Vergil suspected more demons were afoot; they had been attacked a lot lately, and he wasn’t quite sure why. Then again, he hardly stayed in one place for this long.

So, the pair decided to try and find other forgotten places on the island to explore; Mel so that she could scratch that itch, and Vergil so that he could find answers without having to read a mountain of books. Mel heard of one such place near Fortuna Castle. During one of their many long stints in the library, she read about a vault the founding members of the Order built into the mountainside near the site of the castle. The vault came first, supposedly, and the castle was built near it later, in part to watch over it. Unlike the hidden library, she wasn’t sure if the natives remembered the vault. Perhaps it, too, was forbidden. She hoped that history stole it from the memory of the Fortuna people. Vergil hardly shared her optimism, though he would have been happy to be wrong.

Sneaking towards the mountains proved far trickier than going to the ravine. They had to pass through a small mining town and that meant quickly ducking down back alleys and trying to stay out of sight. Fortuna proper might barely be willing to tolerate outsiders, but the outer areas had no patience for them at all. They had no reason to be outside the city, as far as they were concerned, and any outsiders who tread past the walls were looking for trouble. Vergil supposed they weren’t _entirely_ wrong about that.

Slow as the going was, they did eventually sneak past and came up through the mountain pass. It was May, and the snow was melting. They trod through slush and partly melted ice as they looked for the fabled vault.

“It’s supposed to be somewhere around here,” Mel said, glancing at her book as they carefully made their way down the side of the mountain. “If the natives know about this, they don’t come here often. There’s no path.”

“We’ll soon see.” Vergil kept an eye on the castle that loomed in the distance. If watchmen were posted, they wouldn’t be able to make out Mel and Vergil in detail, but they could still be able to see that someone was trespassing. Not that Vergil couldn’t deal with them easily, but he _was_ trying to avoid that sort of trouble while he was there.

“Ah!” Mel cried out in excitement as she hurried over towards a stretch of rock face. “I think this is it!”

The path – such as it was – dipped sharply down. Vergil kept his pace steady as he followed her. A fall from this mountain wouldn’t kill him, but it would be awfully inconvenient.

Mel stopped in front of the wall, paging through her book. As Vergil rounded the corner after her, he saw it, too: the same runes and symbols that had sealed the door to the hidden library. “This looks promising.” She began reciting the same words used to open the other door, as well as repeat the hand movements. Vergil listened, trying to make out what she was saying. He knew a handful of Latin words, but not nearly enough to translate her words. When she finished, the runes disappeared, and the wall slowly began to part. Mel pumped her fist up in triumph. “ _Yes._ Finally.”

“You’re well-versed in speaking Latin,” Vergil commented as he waited for the door to open.

“Took it in high school,” Mel explained. “I could have taken Spanish or a language that would have been useful. Instead, I learned a dead one.” She cracked a grin. “But I guess it’s come in handy.”

High school. It reminded Vergil of his much less than normal adolescence. Everything that most kids would have learned in junior and senior high he had to teach himself. Sometimes he wondered what it was like, to go to school and be taught properly in a classroom. But those experiences were far out of his reach. It was fine by him; he had much more important, useful goals that couldn’t be taught or gained in a classroom. Still, he couldn’t help but ask, “What did you think of high school?”

Mel blinked and looked at him curiously. She answered, “It was school. I gritted my teeth and got through it to graduate. I was pretty happy to be out of there.”

“And you decided to travel then?”

“Oh, I’ve always wanted to do it. I guess I could have dropped out and started sooner, but it’s hard getting around before you’re eighteen.”

_Yes, yes it is._ Eighteen couldn’t have come fast enough for Vergil. “Your family was fine with it?”

Mel shook her head. “Don’t have one of those. I grew up in the system. I was bounced around so many places, I’ve lost count.”

_Oh_. That was… unfortunate. Vergil avoided foster care by being on the run and surviving on his own. He heard enough stories to know that he hadn’t been missing much. “So you’re orphaned, too.”

“…what a shitty thing to have in common.”

The door finally opened. They walked in together, Mel pulling out a flashlight to illuminate the otherwise unlit interior. “Sorry you are, too. Did you know your family?”

“Yes.”

“Count yourself lucky, for what little it’s worth.”

_So she didn’t know hers at all,_ Vergil thought as he looked around. That was doubly unfortunate. But he had had enough of the subject, and Mel seemed to be getting uncomfortable as well. “At least we don’t seem to have a maze to deal with.”

They had entered a hallway. On the far end was a door, and nothing else. Straightforward enough. “This is definitely… more roughshod?” Mel commented as she headed down the hall. “The other place had nice, smooth walls and sconces where you could hang torches. Here it’s just a crude, dug out tunnel and a door.”

Vergil said nothing, merely walking ahead. But as he reached for the handle, a loud roar came from behind them. They both turned to find a bestial demon staring them down from the entrance, fangs protruded and eyes glowing yellow. It snarled and slowly entered the vault, its claws clicking ominously against the stone floor.

“I think you’re up, Kevin Costner,” Mel joked as she retreated back towards the yet unopened door.

“I – nevermind, I’m sure it’s some reference I can’t be bothered to know,” Vergil said with a roll of his eyes as he unsheathed Yamato.

“You really need to see more films.”

Vergil ignored her, focused instead on the demon approaching. It was large, but at least it was alone. “Quality over quantity today?” he remarked. “Though the quality seems dubious at best.”

The demon had no intelligence to speak of. It just roared again before it charged, aiming to tackle Vergil and kill him while he was on the ground. But the son of Sparda was far too fast for it; Vergil disappeared in a blue flash and reappeared alongside of it, jabbing his sword into its side before he ran down its length, tearing it open as he went. The demon screamed before it fell, its body shaking the floor with its collapse.

“Not even worth the effort,” Vergil remarked, unimpressed by the creature. He looked out the entrance, expecting more, but none came. He looked back to find Mel doing the same, staring uneasily between the dead demon and the entrance. After a minute of waiting, Vergil shook the blood off of Yamato before sheathing it.

Mel furrowed her brow, and Vergil could all but hear the question dancing on her tongue. But once again, she held back from asking it. Vergil supposed he could just explain, but if she wasn’t willing to ask, then he wasn’t going to go through the trouble. “Does this door also require an incantation?”

“I don’t think so. Don’t see any of those runes.” Mel tried the handle. The door opened a little, but then it seemed to stop. She tried again, with more force, but it wouldn’t budge. “It’s stuck.”

She stepped aside to let Vergil try it. He pushed on it with minimal strength applied, but it remained unmoved. He frowned in annoyance. “Stand back.”

Mel did as told, though she asked, “What are you going to-”

Her question was answered when Vergil brought up his foot and slammed it into the door. It opened some more, but still remained not entirely open. He grunted and kicked it again, applying even more strength. Finally it gave way, crashing open and knocking over something heavy and hard.

On the floor in front of the door was a statue, or what was left of one. A lot of its face and other identifying features were gone. In Vergil’s defense, the face ruining happened before he toppled the statue. Other body parts were missing as well, leading Vergil to wonder if this statue’s condition was intentional.

“…how was that statue in front of the door?” Mel wondered out loud as they stepped inside.

Not the question he expected. “Could be a number of reasons.” Vergil wasn’t terribly interested in that mystery. He wondered instead at the room he was in. It was much smaller than the library, but still a decent size. And it was most definitely a vault. Boxes, crates, and wrapped items filled the room along the sides, floor to ceiling. Fortunately there was a wide space in the center to get to them.

“What do we have here?” Mel did a complete circle, taking in the room. “Pretty big vault. And this stuff looks like it’s been untouched for a while. Maybe the statue’s to blame for that.”

Vergil walked up to the first crate on his left and opened it. Piles of documents greeted him. He sifted through them, looking for anything promising. He found nothing but old ledgers and receipts. He scoffed and tossed the box to the ground before moving onto the next. Behind him, Mel began to dig as well.

Crate after crate, box after box, Vergil’s search continued. He found very little in the way of useful information. A lot of it were records that hardly interested him. Mel took a bit more time to go through them, but he pressed on.

A couple hours into the search, he came across a box that was tightly sealed. Curious, he dug his fingers in and ripped off the top. Inside were more records. Vergil almost tossed those as well, until a name caught his eye: Sparda. _Now this is promising._ He paged through the old documents, trying to make sense of them. They spoke about his father’s stay on the island, and the things he taught the natives.

“Oh hey, there’s a painting.” He barely registered Mel’s words, too wrapped up in his reading. But he should have known something was wrong when she fell very quiet. And not just for a brief moment, oh no. Minutes passed, and still nothing from her.

It was the prolonged silence that finally alerted him. He set down the papers and looked for Mel. She stood in front of a painting, rigid and unmoving. “Mel?”

His voice brought her back. She turned, and there was something in her expression he hadn’t seen since they first met: fear. “What are you?” she croaked out.

“What?”

Mel stepped to the side. Vergil nearly did a double take, because when she moved, he found himself staring at his father’s image. But it wasn’t the image of him as a demon he so often saw. This painting portrayed him as a human. He beheld the same blue eyes and silver hair that he inherited from his father. It kicked up a mixture of pride and grief, enough that it took him half a minute to realize why Mel looked so taken aback. At the bottom of the painting was a small plaque with his father’s name.

“Ah. We’re going to have this conversation after all.” Vergil tore his gaze from his father’s portrait and aimed it at Mel. “Surely you’ve noticed some things about me that seem impossible, and I suspect you’ve even wanted to ask about them.”

“…you’re not human, are you?”

“I am.” Far too much, according to him. “But not as much as you are.” He gestured to the painting. “Sparda was my father. He married a human woman – my mother – and she gave birth to twin boys, myself being one of them.”

Mel stood frozen in shock. It took a solid minute of staring before she had the presence of mind to finally speak. She shook her head in disbelief. “So you’re saying you’re – what, half human, half _demon_?”

“That’s precisely what I’m saying.”

“But…” She looked at the portrait. “Sparda – didn’t all that happen two thousand years ago?”

“Demons live for a very long time. Even those who’ve been cut off from their power.”

Mel ran a hand through her hair. “Holy shit.” She let out a shaky laugh. “‘I met a devil, but he didn’t want my soul, he only wanted to borrow my bike awhile.’”

“…come again?”

“Silverstein,” was all she gave by way of explanation. There was another pause, and then she said, “Wait, you said you’re an orphan, though. So… he’s dead now?”

“I assume as much. He left when I was young and never returned.” Vergil wasn’t _entirely_ certain he was. It wasn’t like he saw him die. His mother never explained it. “And my mother died years ago.” A subject that he was not going to elucidate further.

Luckily, Mel veered away from that and stuck to the topic of Sparda. “Is he the reason why you’re here? Are you learning about your dad?”

“You could say that.”

Mel narrowed her eyes. “Meaning…?”

“When my father rebelled against the underworld, he had to seal away his power in order to blockade it from the human world. Since those seals remain in place, that means his power is still intact. I want to find it.”

“And do what?”

“Take it. What else does one want to find power for?”

Mel pressed her lips together. Anger lit her eyes. “Okay. So you want his power. I’m not even going to get into what that might do to the human world because I think that’s a whole different argument. Instead, I’m gonna ask this: you want his power and you want to take it. Fine. Then what?”

“What do you mean?”

“What do you mean, ‘what do I mean’? I mean exactly what I said. If you manage to get his power, what comes next? What are you going to do with it? Are you – you gonna take over the world or something?”

“No.” Not _really._ He just wanted to make the world fear him so _he_ would never have to live in fear again. But of course, rather than try and explain that to her, he just said, “I want it so I can have it.”

Mel closed her eyes. Vergil could have sworn he heard her counting back from ten. When she opened them again, she said, slowly, “You want to obtain what I’m fairly certain is a _lot_ of power, the kind that keeps a legion of demons at bay. And you want that power… just _because_?” She shook her head. “Either you’re not telling me something, or you’ve – god, I don’t even know what. But if you’re really just looking to get it just so you can have it, you have a breathtaking lack of foresight.”

“I know exactly what I’m doing.” No, he absolutely did not.

“He says, not knowing what he’s gonna do with all that power once he has it.”

“What does it matter?”

“It matters because that’s the entire point! People don’t obtain power just to have it. They want to use it for something, even if it’s as a deterrent.” Mel studied him, arms crossed and brow furrowed in a thoughtful frown. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“Nothing.” Vergil turned away. “It’s none of your concern.”

Mel hissed out a frustrated breath. “I have a feeling it is, but fine. If that’s how you want to play it.” She also turned away and went back to searching through the boxes.

Neither said anything to each other for the rest of the day.

* * *

“Did you ever get it?”

Vergil regards his son and his pointed question. Hoo boy. “Almost. But things… did not pan out quite the way I expected.” And then things, quite literally, went to hell. “However, that’s its own story.” Nero still doesn’t know the details of what happened in the Temen-ni-gru, and Vergil’s not quite ready to delve into that one just yet.

Nero frowns, and Vergil’s almost certain an argument’s going to start. But it dies before it even begins and Nero just shrugs instead. “Sounds like she wasn’t crazy about your plan.”

“Not at all. We had a few arguments about it.” Arguments that he should have considered more carefully. But hindsight is 20/20. “She didn’t speak to me the rest of the day. When we returned to her apartment, she went straight into her room and didn’t come out.”

“Was she mad?”

“Something like that. Or perhaps just at a loss of words. Or both. She never said. The next day, she came out and was speaking to me again, almost like nothing had happened. I thought she dropped the matter and wanted to move on.” And she had, but not permanently. It would not be their last argument.

From the corner of his eye, he sees Nico’s eyes flutter close in the rearview mirror. “Nicoletta, I’d rather you not crash the van.”

Her eyes flash open, but not quickly enough for Nero not to see. “Damn it, Nico. Pull over and let me drive.”

“I’m fine!”

“No, you’re not,” Vergil says, his tone sharp. “Pull over the van and let Nero drive.”

“I don’t-”

Nero pushes himself off the couch and makes towards the front. “I can yank you out of that seat, Nico.”

“ _Fine._ Don’t get handsy with me! I’m pullin’ over.” Nico slows the van and pulls off onto the shoulder. She parks it and gets up. “There. You can drive like the old lady you are.” She hops into the passenger seat and reclines it. “Probably have a full night’s sleep by the time you get us home.”

“Some of us don’t drive like we’re trying to run everyone off the road.” Nero puts the van into gear and pulls back onto the highway. “And what do you care anyway? You’re gonna be asleep in like, two minutes.”

“Nuh uh.”

“We’ll see about that.”

Vergil watches the clock on the dashboard. He lets two minutes pass. When he looks over at Nico, she’s sound asleep. He shakes his head and leans it back against the wall. With Nero concentrating on driving, he’s left to his thoughts and the companionable quiet in the van. He’s surprisingly tired. With a few hours’ drive ahead of them, there’s little point in fighting it. A few minutes later he, too, nods off.

* * *

Something isn’t right.

It’s dark at first. Vergil tries to find himself; he can’t even see his hands in front of him. He tries to touch his face, but all he feels is cold armor. Dread fills him. _No. No, not this._

He walks, though he does not want to. He goes through a portal, though he doesn’t know how it even got there. He wants to reach for his mother’s amulet, but it’s gone. The comforting weight of Yamato in his hand is also gone; it’s replaced by a heavier, unwieldy sword that he did not choose.

But those memories begin to fade. He panics, trying to summon them back, but they won’t come. By the time he’s through the portal, he cannot even recall his name or who he is. He just knows _something_ is gone, but he doesn’t know what.

The landscape he stands in feels… familiar. Another memory he cannot recall. He must find someone; that he knows. Mundus bids it. He cannot refuse, even though something from deep in the back of his mind screams in protest. But he walks. And he looks. It does not take long. His feet seem to know the way. Along a riverside path walks a woman that he knows. Or, he did. Or does. He _should_ know.

_“It is not important that you know. All that matters is that we rid you of that weak, human heart.”_ Mundus is ever a presence in his mind anymore. Nothing is safe from him, not even his thoughts. _“Exterminate her. Then you will be complete. Then you will be truly fit to serve me.”_

The woman turns around. She gasps, stumbling back in shock. “Stay back!” she shouts.

_“There is no reason to hesitate. Take your sword. End her hapless, pointless existence.”_

He steps towards her. Then he takes another. But as he goes to take his third, something comes back to him. A faint memory. He sees that same woman, smiling at him and brushing his hair from his face. A name echoes in his mind. “Mel…”

“…oh my god. Vergil?” She clasps a hand over her mouth, horror and shock making her eyes go wide. “What happened to you?”

_Vergil._ That’s his name. That’s what he went by. Vergil, the son of Sparda.

_“You are no longer that being. You have become something more. She tethers you to your weak human heart. Be rid of it. Be rid of her. Kill her.”_

His body steps closer, sword raised.

“Vergil?”

He does not want to do this. But he cannot make his body stop. He takes another step.

“Vergil.” Mel steps away. “Don’t.”

He stops and stares at her. His sword raises a little more. She’s just within his reach.

“Vergil. _Please._ ”

He must. But he doesn’t want to. Not her. Anyone but her. _Don’t make me-_

His sword swings down.

* * *

One moment, everyone but Nero is sleeping peacefully in the van. The next moment, his father makes… god, he doesn’t even know how to describe those sounds. They’re like pained screams and something inhuman mixed together. He swivels his head to see what’s going on, and he’s greeted with the sight of Vergil rocketing out of his chair and grabbing his sword. He slams against the jukebox as he falls out of his chair, eyes wide and panicked like an animal caught in a trap.

The van swerves as Nero swings it into the shoulder. He slams it into park, waking up Nico as he all but trips his way out of the driver’s seat to get to his father. “What the hell? What is it?”

Vergil’s breathing is shallow. Yamato is in his hand, and he has a white-knuckled grip on the hilt.

“Dad. Look at me. What happened?”

That seems to bring him back. Vergil shakes his head, and immediately he relaxes. “A nightmare.” He sheathes Yamato and straightens up, doing his damnedest to regain his composure.

“What-”

“Continue driving. I’ll remain awake for the rest of the trip.”

“I can’t just-”

“I’m fine!” Vergil snaps, more harshly than he usually is with Nero. “Drive.”

Nero wants to ask. His father panicking like that means it must have been a terrible nightmare. It may very well be just a concoction of his imagination… or he was reliving a memory. But either way, he suspects he’ll get rejected if he tries to ask. And Vergil is clearly too rattled to talk much right now. Instead, he blows out a sigh and nods. Now isn’t the time to fight that battle. Still, he can’t help but wonder as he climbs back into the driver’s seat: _What aren’t you telling me?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And things had been going so well...


	7. Regression

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nero struggles to connect with his father as what lessons Vergil learned about handling problems in a healthy manner totally fly out the window.

Vergil had kept to the van when they returned from the mission. Nero wishes he had talked to him about what happened earlier, but his father seemed unwilling to talk. At the time, Nero had just shrugged it off. _He’ll be less prickly in the morning,_ he thinks as he heads inside.

Unfortunately, it turns out not to be the case.

The morning starts out the same as usual. Kyrie’s up making breakfast for everyone, the boys are sleepily working through their morning routine, Nico’s fiddling with something or other, and Nero bounces around the house, helping as needed. He glances towards the living room, expecting to see Vergil occupying the same chair with a book in hand. But his father is conspicuously absent. He frowns a little. “Anyone see my dad?”

Kyrie shakes her head. “No, he hasn’t come out yet.”

“He had a bit of a rough night, so maybe it isn’t unusual.”

“What do you mean?”

Nero gives her a brief rundown of what happened in the van. He shrugs as he finishes with, “He was cagey on the way back, but I figured he was still freaked out.”

“You should check on him,” Kyrie says. “Breakfast is almost done anyway.”

 _Why do I have a bad feeling about this?_ Nero thinks as he heads towards the garage. _Old man is probably gonna dig his heels in and not wanna talk about it. Guess I can’t make him, but…_ He pops open the garage door and shouts, “Hey, Dad! Breakfast is almost done. You coming out?”

He’s met with silence. Nero’s scowl deepens. “Dad! You awake?”

Still nothing.

“What the hell?” he murmurs as he walks into the garage and up to the van’s side door. He pounds on it. “Dad!”

Finally, he gets a muffled response, “I’m not eating breakfast. Leave me be.”

 _…seriously?_ “I can at least bring a plate out if you really-”

“No, that isn’t necessary.”

Nero just stares at the door in disbelief. Vergil being a jerk isn’t new, but this is beyond what Nero had expected. He opens his mouth, but he’s torn over what to say. Half of him wants to kick down the door and demand answers, but the other half tells him to be understanding. Vergil will come around soon. The second half wins out, with Nero just sighing and going, “Fine” before turning and heading back inside.

\--

Of course, there’s the question of how long soon is going to take. Nero leaves his father be until evening, hoping that the several hours between breakfast and now have given his father enough time to sort his thoughts. But Vergil hasn’t come out at all, which isn’t an encouraging sign.

Nero quietly steps back into the garage. Dinner time is approaching, and surely Vergil is getting hungry. Though Nero knows his father (along with his uncle and possibly himself) can go for long periods of time without food, he hopes that Vergil isn’t willing to do that if not necessary. He tentatively approaches the door and knocks again. “Hey, it’s gonna be dinner time soon. Kyrie made some pot pies.”

He’s once again met with silence.

“You’re kidding me. Come on, don’t make me beg for a damn answer.”

He swears he hears a sigh, and then, “I’m not hungry.”

“You haven’t eaten all day.”

“I don’t require food. I’m fine, Nero.”

“Like hell you are. This is bad, even for you.” Nero debates just barging in. “Is this about that nightmare? Whatever it is, it’s-”

“Nothing. It’s nothing you need to involve yourself with,” Vergil snaps. “Leave, Nero.”

Rage bubbles up. Nero raises a fist to slam against the door. His arm shakes as it hangs in the air, trying to decide whether to give into the anger or not. “Tch.” Nero settles for just kicking the door. “Fine. Stay in there and mope.” Rejected and turned away once again, Nero leaves the garage. _He can stay in there for as long as he wants, I don’t care._ But even as he thinks that, he knows it’s a lie. He’ll be back soon enough to try again.

\--

Nero doesn’t bother to try again first thing in the morning, though. He has chores to take care of, and Kyrie drags him along to do some shopping. He suspects she does it solely to get him out of the house. To her credit, it does help a little. The worry and stress weigh on him less as he walks about town with her, distracted by their to do list and people coming up to talk to them.

“Oh, Kyrie!” A voice calls out to them from across the street. The couple turns to find a middle-aged woman hobbling over to them.

“Good morning, Mrs. Satin,” Kyrie greets her with a smile.

“Morning to you, too.” Mrs. Satin turns to Nero. “And you as well, Nero. I heard your father is in town?”

“Yeah, he is. He’s visiting for a bit.”

“It’s so great that you found your family,” she says. “Or at least part of it. Which brings me to why I was looking for you two.” Mrs. Satin straightens herself a bit, as if about to deliver a debrief. “I heard you’ve been asking around about a young woman that was here a long time ago. An outsider who claimed to be a student?”

“Yes,” Kyrie answers. “It would have been about twenty-five years ago.”

“She would have been with a guy her age for a few months,” Nero adds. “He… well, he looked like me.”

“I was living in Mine Town back then, so I don’t think I ever saw them myself,” Mrs. Satin admits, “but I do know that Sister Oliva was keeping a student at her rental around that time.”

They already had suspected that, but that’s confirmation at least. Nero nods. “So, she was staying there. Do you know where her son Nathaniel is?”

“He’s out at sea. They should be back within a week or so, depending on the haul and how much they can get at Karamina Port.”

Nero blows out a defeated breath. _At least a week. Damn it._ He’s being impatient and he knows it, but he wants answers, and he wants them now. Especially with how his father’s acting. If he keeps this up, the search may fall entirely on Nero and Kyrie.

“Did Sister Oliva ever tell you anything about her?” Kyrie asks hopefully.

Mrs. Satin shakes her head. “No, afraid not. But…” She taps a finger to her lips. “Oliva was a mid-wife, like me.”

“Yes, and we think it’s possible she helped birth Nero, but given that there aren’t any records-”

“ _Official_ ones, no, but we mid-wives keep personal records. Jotting down little notes, observations, things like that. We mostly use them as a reference.”

Now _that_ sounds promising. “Do you know where Oliva’s got to?” Nero asks.

“Nathaniel probably has them still. He’s not home, but his wife is. Tell you what, I’ll drop by there later and talk to her. See if she can’t dig them out. I’ll explain the situation. If she has them, I’ll run them over to your place later.”

“You would?” Kyrie beams, and Nero smiles with her. “Mrs. Satin, that would be wonderful. Please, if you can. We’ve found so little, so anything helps.”

“Least I can do,” the older woman says, glancing at Nero. “Outsider or not, your mother disappeared in this town and that can’t go unanswered. Frankly, the thought makes me nervous. The sooner we figure this out, the better we’ll all feel.” Mrs. Satin forces a smile before waving good-bye to them. “Well, I best be off. I’ll drop by your place with her notes as soon as I can.”

Kyrie bids her good-bye as the woman turns and trots off to her destination. “Well, that’s something at least,” she says. “It might not give us all the answers we need, but maybe there’ll be a hint in there.”

“Yeah.” Assuming Nathaniel’s wife is willing to fork it over. But for now, all they can do is wait. “We should get back. Let’s see if my father decided to stop being an asshole.”

\--

It’s just past noon when they return. Nero and Kyrie enter through the garage; Kyrie had suggested they try and tag team him. Nero’s uncertain about the plan, but he doesn’t have any better ideas. Once again, he knocks on the van door. And once again, no answer.

Likely seeing that Nero’s about to kick in the door for real this time, Kyrie quickly pipes up, “Hi, Vergil! We just got back from shopping! Is there anything in particular you’d like for lunch?”

“…no, thank you.”

“Oh sure, he’ll answer you,” Nero mutters, though he’s not really complaining. If Vergil had ignored her, he’d probably be even more pissed off. In a louder voice, he addresses his father, “For crying out loud, Dad. Come out of the van. This is getting ridiculous.”

“I asked you to leave me alone. If I want to talk, I know where to find you.”

Nero sighs in exasperation and looks at Kyrie. _See what I’m dealing with here?_

She frowns in thought. “Please. We’re getting worried. If it’s something we did, we’d rather know and try to fix it.”

“Not everything concerns or is about you. _Leave._ ”

 _Oh hell no._ He’ll put up with his father talking to him like that, but he’s not going to let him speak to Kyrie that way. He grabs the handle and wrenches open the door-

Or he almost does, until Kyrie grabs his arm. “Nero, don’t.”

“But-”

“You’re angry. An argument isn’t going to help.”

“Then what is going to help?! He won’t talk, he won’t come out, he won’t do anything but sit and mope in there!” He lets out a small yell of frustration as he whirls on his heel. “Screw this,” he seethes.

\--

It’s now day three, and Vergil’s showing no signs of letting up.

At this point, Nero is just exhausted and at his wit’s end. He doesn’t know what to do about his father. Does he force his way in? Does he let him go? Kyrie keeps telling him to wait, but he’s not sure the pacifist route is gonna work.

What he needs is a straight answer from a reliable source. And like a god answering his prayer, that source comes through when the phone rings. Nero sighs, not in the mood to talk, and answers tiredly, “Devil May Cry.”

“ _What, did I wake you up or something?_ ” Dante teases. “ _Just calling to follow up on the job. I didn’t hear from you. How’d it go?”_

 _Oh shit._ It’s unprofessional and downright incompetent, but he’d been so caught up with his father’s crap that he’d completely forgotten about the job and following through. Nero grimaces from embarrassment. “Sorry, Dante. It went fine. We took care of everything. Site should be safe to go back to.”

 _“Good. I’ll contact them and let them know.”_ Dante doesn’t sound angry, which Nero’s relieved to hear. But given that it’s unlike Nero to drop the ball like this, Dante clearly suspects something’s wrong. It’s evident when he asks, “ _Sooo… how’s your old man’s visit going?”_

Nero looks around. Vergil’s in the van. The kids are outside playing, and Nico and Kyrie went out to run some errands. He’s alone, and that’s what he needs right now. If anyone can help him with this predicament, it’s Dante. “It _was_ going well.”

_“…ah, shit. What did he do now?”_

Nero tells him everything, from his first trip out to the ruins up until the incident in the van and Vergil’s behavior since then. He makes some mention of the things he’s learned about his mother, though he withholds most of the details. Now’s not the time to get into all that.

Dante remains silent until he finishes. His usual lighthearted tone’s gone when he talks again. _“Normally I’d just call it a mood swing, but if he had that bad of a nightmare… and he’s not talking to you at all? After two days of this?”_

“No. All he’ll say is he’s not hungry and to leave him alone.”

“ _I better get my ass down there. In the meantime, all I can suggest is this: don’t be afraid of getting heavy-handed with him. You and I both know he needs an ass-kicking every now and then.”_

Normally Nero would insist he didn’t need to come down. But with Vergil acting the way he is and Nero out of ideas, he can’t say no to the help. So he doesn’t argue Dante’s decision. Instead, he focuses on the ass-kicking bit. “Literally or figuratively?”

_“Both. Often at the same time.”_

_I think I have my answer then._ Nero glances in the direction of the garage. “I’m giving him until morning. Then we’re gonna have it out.”

_“Atta boy. I’ll see you soon.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because avoiding your son and not dealing with an issue is totally not going to blow up in Vergil's face in any way, shape, or form. It's fine. It'll totally be fine.


	8. A Lesson Repeated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After his relationship with Nero takes a beating (literally and figuratively), Vergil's reminded of a lesson he once learned and should never have forgotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild CW for violence, blood and injuries. Which I'm sure is a good indication of how well things are going to go...

Vergil doesn’t know what to do. Ever since that nightmare, his thoughts have been consumed with a terrible realization, or at least a terrible possibility: he’s the one that killed Mel. Mundus had invaded his mind, found his memories of her, and sent Vergil to kill her. It makes perfect sense. Mundus would have _delighted_ in watching Vergil kill her, and he would have tortured him with it. The only thing he can’t quite make sense of is why he can’t remember it. Mundus had taken away a lot of his memories, of which he’s sure he hasn’t gained all of them back. But why would he remove that one? What would be the point of having Vergil kill her only to wipe away the memory? It’s possible his own mind erased it out of preservation, but he doesn’t quite buy it.

He needs time to think this over. And frankly, he can’t bring himself to face Nero. How can he tell him that he killed his mother? How could he explain it? That will undoubtedly destroy what little relationship he’s built with Nero, and that’s the last thing he wants. Somehow, he must figure this out.

Vergil steps out into the backyard, needing some fresh air. His son isn’t happy with him right now, but Vergil will risk that over his unforgiving hatred. _Perhaps I should return to Dante’s shop,_ he thinks as he slowly walks. _I’m certain I’ll never hear the end of it, but there’s too much here. At least at Devil May Cry I can find some measure of quiet… assuming I can get Dante off my back._

“How long are you gonna do this?”

He turns. Standing on the porch is Nero, arms crossed and scowl deeply etched into his face.

“Not now, Nero.”

“Yes, _now_.” Nero stalks towards him, fists bunched. “You’re not just gonna stay here and mope in the van the entire time!”

“I am _not_ ‘moping’ and if you want me to leave, I-”

“I _don’t_ want you to leave. I want you tell me what’s going on!”

“What more can I say to make it clear?! This is not something I’m willing to-”

Really, he should have seen the blow coming. But he didn’t, which is why Vergil takes the full weight of spectral fist to the face. The force of the blow slams him down and has his head bouncing against the ground.

“Stop shutting me out! I’m trying to help and all you do is give me the cold shoulder.”

Vergil rubs his jaw, now feeling a pang of sympathy for the blow Dante took months ago on the Qliphoth. “Not everything concerns you, Nero,” he seethes. Oh, he knows he’s being a jerk. He’s doing it on purpose. He wants to piss off Nero and have him storm off. Maybe it’ll even be enough for Nero to change his mind and demand he go back. “This is my matter and I’ll deal with it as I see-”

This time he _does_ see the blow coming, though it still stings like hell as he blocks Nero’s fist.

“You expect me to just buy that after what happened in the van?”

“I expect you to mind your own business and stop pestering me! I don’t want your company and I don’t understand why you’re not grasping that!” As soon as the words leave his mouth, Vergil immediately regrets them.

Nero takes a step back in shock, and for just a moment, his eyes go wide in hurt. Vergil almost caves and apologizes… until that hurt expression turns into pure, unadulterated rage.

This is when things get _ugly._

There’s a shout, and then Nero rams Vergil, sending them both toppling over the grass. Neither man has his sword on him, which is the good news. The bad news is, well, they have other means to cause harm, namely pummeling each other with their fists.

And do they ever pummel each other. Nero absolutely has the upper hand here, given he has four hands in which to beat his father senseless. Vergil throws him off and tries to get up, but Nero gets back on him in seconds and resumes trying to bash his face in. They grunt and shout in pain, rolling around the ground that’s slowly becoming more and more spattered with blood.

One of Nero’s fists hits Vergil _hard,_ enough that – coupled with all the earlier blows – Vergil without even meaning to transforms into his devil form and tosses Nero off with a lot more force than intended. He scrambles to his feet while Nero’s still recovering a couple yards away. “Enough, Nero!”

But Nero is his son and therefore very, very stubborn. He’s also very much his uncle’s nephew and doesn’t take to being told what to do. So instead, Nero hollers before he shifts into his devil form as well and charges at him. Vergil fake-teleports to the side, but Nero’s craftier than that; one of his spectral arms lashes out as he passes by and grabs Vergil. And then both men are back on the ground, their punches and blows even more damaging now that they’re in their devil triggered states. Their missed swings leave small fissures in the ground below them. More blood comes out, and there’s a few alarming cracks that resonate from limbs and joints.

Vergil lashes out with his hand – now more or less a claw – and the nails dig into Nero’s shoulder. Nero in turn bellows and slams Vergil into the ground, all four hands pressing him down with bone-crushing pressure. He lifts one of his spectral arms and swings it down like a hammer onto Vergil’s face. Vergil barely blocks it. He knows if he stays pinned like this, he’s going to be pummeled into smithereens. His anger and frustration and agony feed into his instinct to fight and survive, so much so that he twists and wrenches Nero’s arm hard enough to make him scream in pain. He flings his son to the side, hopping to his feet and going after him as he bounces across the ground. Now Vergil pins him, beating back Nero’s spectral arms flailing at him as the two men struggle. Vergil bellows in rage and his earlier caution abandons him as he summons one of his swords, poising it above his head to strike down-

There’s a roar that doesn’t come from either of them. Vergil and Nero barely register it before Vergil’s hit by what feels like a speeding locomotive. The breath is knocked out of his lungs as he crashes into the ground, now held down by another, the only person who could have caught him by surprise like that.

Dante glares at him in his sin devil form, a foot and hand holding him down. He swivels his head at Nero and snaps, “When I said have it out, this is _not_ what I meant!”

“He fuckin’-”

“Knock it off!” Dante cuts him off with sharp words. “Both of you cut this shit out and cool off! Nero, go inside. I’ll handle your old man.”

There’s a short but tense silence. Nero scoffs, and Vergil just from the corner of his eye sees him return to his human form. “He’s all yours. He doesn’t want me around, so what does it matter?”

Vergil grimaces as he listens to Nero walk away. He, too, returns to his human form. When he opens his eyes, he’s staring at a human Dante… one whose glare has deepened into a look of anger he so rarely sees from him.

“What. The hell. Did you do?”

Vergil tries not to answer, instead opting to ask instead, “Why are you even here? What-”

Dante grabs Vergil by the front of his shirt and hauls him up. He gives him a hard shake. “Enough! Vergil, just – why are you and Nero pummeling each other to a pulp?! What the hell did you say to him?”

“It’s not your-”

Dante’s grip tightens. Vergil all but sees the desire in his eyes to throw him to the ground and pick up where he and Nero left off. He wants him to. But just as he’s about to, Dante reins himself in. “Nice try,” he murmurs, his tone low and dangerous. “You might have goaded Nero into doing it, but that’s not working on me.” Dante sets him down on the ground. “We’re going into the van. We’re talking about this. I’m not leaving until we are. And I think that a part of you actually wants to talk, but you’re being your usual chickenshit self because it’s a lot to handle.”

Vergil bristles and falls back on old tactics; it’s easier to argue with Dante than to confront the nightmare that haunts him. “This insistence of treating me like a child with no comprehension of my emotional state is getting really old,” he snarls. “Not everything concerns you and Nero! If I had known you two would pester and pry at me like this I would never have-”

“Get over yourself.” Dante stands nearly motionless, an unmovable stone wall holding back a raging storm. “I know what you’re doing, Vergil. And I’m gonna tell you only one more time: it’s not going to work on me.” He snorts and shakes his head. “You always do this when something is eating at you and people try to help.”

Vergil lets out a shuddered breath. The anger swells in him, but this time it’s harder to let it rage, because he knows Dante is right. He’s been hauled out on the carpet, and while the indignity of it makes him want to start swinging, the truth stings just enough to humble him and calm him down. He rubs a hand over his face.

“Looks like you’re finally settling down.” Dante sighs. “Let’s take this to the van.”

Vergil just nods and follows after Dante. Something in the back of his mind nags at him. This feels a bit familiar, and it takes him a moment before he places the memory.

* * *

The weather was dreary and raining. Neither Vergil nor Mel felt like going out into the downpour to trek to the library, so they were shut inside all day. They whiled away the hours with reading and other activities, but conversation was inevitable.

“So, you said you have a brother?”

Vergil rather wished she asked about something else. But Dante wasn’t the _worst_ subject she could have brought up, so he indulged her. “Yes, a twin.”

“What’s his name?”

“Dante.”

Mel laughed. “I’m sensing a theme here.”

Vergil had no retort or comeback. Honestly, he never understood why he and Dante were named such. He suspected it was his father’s choice, but if he meant to convey something or impart a deeper meaning into their names, he was never told what. Barring an actual answer, he instead leveled her with a mild glare.

“Sorry, sorry.” Her smile remained as her questioning continued, “Are you identical twins?”

“Yes.”

“Does he also have a badass katana?”

“That would imply he had actual taste.”

Mel chuckled at his jab.

“He has something more akin to a broadsword. The Rebellion, or so our father named it.”

“Interesting name, but I guess fitting, coming from your father. Are you two close?”

“No.” She was sure to ask why, and Vergil debated briefly what to tell her. “We don’t see eye to eye on many things. He’d rather waste his days doing mercenary work and blowing his money at bars and on useless toys. He’s stagnant, and somehow he prefers it that way.”

“Doesn’t sound like my cup of tea either, but to each their own. At least he’s making a living.” Mel shrugged. “I take it you don’t get along, then?”

Vergil snorted. “Hardly. The last time we met, we fought. I expect it’ll be the same the next time we meet.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

“Dante provides at least something of a challenge to me, and despite his laziness, he does have skill. More than what I usually battle at any rate.” He regarded her with a deep frown. “Why shouldn’t I be fine with that?”

Mel jerked her head back just slightly before leaning forward in her seat, frowning equally in turn. “Because he’s your brother? I mean, what if one of you gets killed while fighting? You’ll have no one. Would you really risk losing your only family over a disagreement?”

“It’s more than just a disagreement. Our approaches to our heritage and our power vastly differ. He refuses to understand my position, and I can’t fathom his. And if he were to die battling me, then he wasn’t worthy of being my equal. I have little doubt he sees it differently.”

By that point, Mel was gawking at him. “What the _fuck_ , Vergil? Are you – do you listen to yourself when you talk? Do you comprehend what you say? He’s your _family._ He’s the only one who knew your parents like you do and had the same childhood. Clearly you two have different approaches to life, but I’d bet if you were _really_ in trouble he’d come help you. There are people out there who have no family and no one to turn to if shit hits the fan. You’re lucky!” She roughly ran a hand through her hair, emitting a snort of frustration before she continued her rant, “I’d give anything to have a sibling to fight with. And there you are, wasting your relationship on this machismo, idiotic sibling rivalry!”

Vergil scoffed. She didn’t know Dante like he did. She didn’t know how their feud evolved, nor the hurtful words that they flung at each other. She spoke about things she had no understanding of, and he rankled at her acting like she did. It was entirely idiotic.

So why did a small part of him wonder if she was right?

He didn’t want to dwell on that, so he quelled it. At that point, he had had enough of this conversation and sought to end it. “‘A fool sees not the same tree that a wise man sees.’” And so of course he did so by being an asshole. _Usually_ that tactic worked on other people.

But as he was slowly beginning to realize, it didn’t work on Mel quite so much. Oh, she was plenty offended. He could see it in the way her nostrils flared and her eyes widened. Her fists tightly gripped her knees. He thought for sure she would leave. And if she were anyone else, she would have stormed off. But that wasn’t what happened.

* * *

The van door slams open, disrupting Vergil’s reminiscing. He blinks in surprise; he hadn’t realized they made it into the garage already. Dante heads in first, waiting for Vergil to come inside before shutting the door behind him with his foot. The brothers take their usual seats: Vergil at the table and Dante on the couch.

When they’re settled, Dante levels a look at his brother. “So, you wanna explain what the hell is going on?”

“Nero and I had a disagreement.”

“That ranks a few leagues above disagreement. Look, he told me what’s been happening, so cut the crap. What happened in the van the other night?”

So, he heard about that. Vergil leans back against the wall, arms crossed. He really doesn’t know if he should do this. But Dante’s not going to let up. And the more he thinks about it, the more he wonders if maybe Dante can provide some insight Vergil isn’t seeing. He sighs and says, “…before I tell you, you must first swear that this stays between us. For now.”

Dante’s shoulders sag. “You want me to keep another secret from Nero?”

“For. Now.”

“Fine.” He gestures at Vergil. “What is it?”

Vergil shifts to look at the table next to him, drumming his fingers on it nervously. Forcing the words out feels like ripping out little knives stuck in him. “I had a nightmare. One that’s possibly a memory that I had lost.”

Dante frowns. “Okay. What happened?”

He swallows thickly. “I came here, to Fortuna. As Nelo Angelo.” The name still tastes sour on his tongue.

Dante’s expression falls, and Vergil knows his brother has an idea of what’s coming.

“Mundus demanded it. I couldn’t say no. My memories were gone, but I knew something wasn’t right. I walked until I found her. When she spoke, I remembered. I remembered her and who I was. And when I talked, she realized it was me.”

Dante says nothing still. His lips are pressed together tightly and his hand’s gripping his forearm hard enough that his knuckles are turning white.

“…Mundus told me to kill her. I didn’t – I didn’t _want_ to, but I couldn’t stop. She begged me not to, but I lifted up my sword and I began to swing down… and then I woke up.”

There’s a very long, very stretched out pause as Dante sinks into the couch, hands over his face. “Okay.” Dante repeats the word a few times as he rubs his face a few times. “Look, it might not be a memory. It could be just a nightmare.”

“It felt too real to be.”

“But even if it is a memory,” Dante continues, “you don’t know for certain that you killed her. Anything could have happened.” He sits up. “Vergil, think about it: you’ve been recalling a lot of memories lately. It’s how brains work. Whatever’s on our mind tends to come up in our dreams. And you’ve been through some awful shit. That all gets mixed up in there.” He gestures at his head. “All I’m saying is, don’t assume the worst yet.”

It’s in Vergil’s nature to do just that. Mundus sending him to kill Melanie makes perfect sense. The only thing giving him hope is, “I just don’t know why that memory would have been swept away. He would have tortured me with that endlessly.”

“He’d wipe it away if you didn’t succeed and stopped yourself from killing her. Just sayin’.”

Never in his life did Vergil hope Dante’s right as much as he does right now. “You agree to not tell Nero?”

“Yeah, as much as it sucks.” Dante ruffles his hair. “But no point in getting him upset over something that might not even be true. If… it is true, then we’ll deal with it.” Then, under his breath, “But god I hope not.”

Vergil looks down at the floor. He wants to be wrong here. He so desperately does. But he can’t shake the feeling that it’s a memory he relived, not a nightmare. It feels too real, too close. What Dante is definitely right about though is that for now, they can’t do anything about it. Not until he remembers the rest, or they find proof to disprove it otherwise. Now Vergil _really_ needs to find out what happened to Mel, even if the answer threatens to destroy what little he’s built. But this is all more than he wants to dwell on. There’s something he’s been meaning to ask anyway. “Nero told you what happened?”

“I called him to ask how the job went. Kind of picked up that something was wrong, so I asked.” Dante lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “He was worried. And pissed off, but mostly worried.”

Vergil pinches the bridge of his nose. He gets why Nero was confused. He knows he hasn’t been handling things well, but he had handled them the only way he knew how. Like Dante, Vergil’s typically good at concealing his emotions. But all the memories and past trauma he’s been confronting lately inhibit that. It’s all too fresh, roiling so close to the surface of his mind that concealing everything’s impossible. “Now I need to somehow fix this mess.”

“Uh, yeah,” Dante says dryly. “You really fucked up out there. Whatever you said to him-”

“I didn’t mean it,” Vergil cuts him off. “…and yes, I know. I need to tell that to Nero, not you.”

“Look at you, you’re catching on.”

“Very slowly.” Vergil shakes his head, staring back down at his hands. “You know, you weren’t the first to have called me out like that. One would think I would have learned after last time.”

Dante raises a brow. “Mel?”

Vergil nods. “She caught onto me rather quickly. About as quickly as Nero has.” He smiles, a mixture of rueful and sad.

* * *

Vergil’s words stung her, but they didn’t send her fleeing. After her momentary shock passed, Mel murmured, “You like to keep people at a distance by being cruel, don’t you? When something makes you uncomfortable and you don’t want anyone getting near, you lash out with words and hope they’re enough to make them leave.”

“You think you know me so well?” he mocked, trying that very tactic she just noted.

“Not fully, but I’ve caught onto certain things about you. We spend every day together, Vergil, and it’s been what, over a month now? Kind of hard not to pick up on things after a while.”

He opened his mouth to argue… and the words wouldn’t come. She was right. He _did_ like to do that, and it made sense she would have noticed it. It infuriated him to no end, but he gave credit where credit was due. So he closed his mouth, and just stared.

“Maybe I’m crazy for persisting and refusing to let you intimidate me, but two can play at the stubborn game. Besides, we’re still partners. We need to get along.” She leaned back. “And when you’re not being a prick, I do kind of like you.”

Now that honestly surprised Vergil, and he didn’t bother to hide it. He knew how difficult he could be. “Despite how much you disagree with me on things?”

“On some things, sure, but just because we don’t always see eye to eye doesn’t mean we still can’t get along. Learning about other people’s perspectives helps you grow as a person.” She aimed a hard, steady look at him, jaw set. “And if the differences are that much, there _are_ other ways people can settle them besides hacking at each other with swords, you know.”

He really didn’t know what to say to that. He never thought of things that way. Her words kicked up a lot of doubts, and that alarmed him. But one thing did make perfect sense: as long as they worked together, they needed to maintain peace. Insulting her and pushing her away would only make things difficult. They still needed each other for the time being. “…I apologize for what I said. That was unwarranted.” And that, if he was ever asked, was his only reason for apologizing.

“Yeah, it was. But I accept your apology.” Mel offered a little smile. “And I appreciate it.”

_You’re a lot kinder to me than I deserve._ He wasn’t used to it. That had a lot to do with his second and unadmitted reason for apologizing: because he honestly did not want her to think less of him. The patience and kindness felt alien, but they still felt _good._ They warmed him and he reveled in that warmth. He didn’t want to lose it.

Suddenly he stood and declared, “If we’re done, I’m going for a walk.” Without waiting for a response, Vergil grabbed Yamato and headed outside.

_Don’t get attached,_ he scolded himself as he hurried down the steps. _She’s just a human, nothing more than a means to an end. You’re better than this. You’re above her, above all this. You’re-_

But the feelings lingered, and for the first time in his life, Vergil found himself at the mercy of feelings he never had grappled with before. And with those feelings came fear.

* * *

Fear. It’s been the driving force in Vergil’s life. It’s always been. Fear of loss, fear of being in danger, fear of being powerless, fear of weakness and defeat… He’s always afraid of something or other, despite what he says. And he is so utterly sick and tired of it.

He stands up slowly, back protesting briefly. His body is still recovering from his brawl with Nero. “I need to find my son.”

“Yeah, you do.” Dante leans back against the couch. “Don’t choke on your words.”

Vergil glances at Dante, scathing words rising in his throat. But he swallows them. He’s done enough damage for one day, and Dante’s only trying to help. “I have no intention of doing so.” Though he knows that’s a very distinct possibility. With a bracing breath, Vergil opens the van door and heads towards the house interior.


	9. Eye to Eye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some reconciliation, and a couple more answers.

Clutching a bag of ice against his head, Nero stares out his bedroom window. His red hot temper is frozen solid; the hurt and the anger immobilize him in indecision. His emotions are pulling him in a dozen different directions and reactions. All he can do is sit and stare. And unfortunately, that comes with thinking.

It’s good that Dante had shown up when he had, because that fight had nearly gone past a point of no return. Calmer now, Nero doesn’t know quite what came over the two of them. His father had just gone berserk, and his anger fed into Nero’s, trapping them in an unending cycle of rage. Or had it been the other way around?

Nero moves the ice pack to his nose, still throbbing from one of many blows. His healing factor is working hard, but it’s currently trying to take care of worse injuries, mostly the broken bones and who-knows-what-else his father had inflicted on him. The minor scrapes and cuts are left for Nero to tend to until the more serious injuries are taken care of. _Kyrie’s going to flip if she sees me like this_. He hopes she and Nico will be a while longer yet.

He hears footsteps approaching. _Shit, don’t tell me they’re already-_

“Nero.”

The quarter demon spins around to find Vergil in the doorway, the last person he had been expecting. Despite how much it makes his face hurt, he glares at his father. “What do you want?”

“To apologize.”

Nero narrows his eyes. “For what, exactly?” There’s a rather long list of things Vergil could be – and should be – apologizing for.

Vergil nearly starts fidgeting where he’s standing. He quickly snaps his hands away from each other, leaving him standing there awkwardly, arms at his sides. It takes a long moment for him to find his words. “For our fight, to start with. I lost control.”

“Yeah, you did.” Nero grits his teeth, wanting to make a biting remark. But the contrite look on his father’s face kills the words before they even form. Instead, Nero glances uncomfortably at the opposite wall. “I guess I did, too,” he mutters in admittance.

“I pushed it.”

He looks at Vergil again, his glare lessening but still present. “The hell is going on with you? Why did we end up fighting? Why did it take Dante to come down here and knock sense into you?”

Realizing this conversation might take a while, Vergil finally relaxes his stance enough to lean against the door frame. “It was something I wanted to handle alone. I didn’t want to drag you into it and make it your problem.”

“You still don’t get it. If it’s hurting you or if something’s wrong, it has everything to do with me. It _is_ my problem. That’s how families work.” Nero swipes at his nose, a gesture he immediately regrets as his nose throbs with pain. “Or that’s how they’re supposed to work, anyway.”

“It’s something I have little experience with, but I believe you may be right.” Vergil sighs, and adds, “I also need to apologize about what I said; I didn’t mean it about not wanting your company.”

“So… why did you say it? Were you just being an asshole?”

“Something I’m good at, or so I’ve been told.”

Nero snorts. “Yeah, you are.” He looks over at Vergil. “Just… if you won’t tell me what’s going on, will you at least tell me why you won’t?”

Vergil sighs. “Because I’m still trying to make sense of it. I… don’t know what to tell you exactly, not yet.”

“It wasn’t just a nightmare, was it?”

“…honestly, Nero, I don’t know, and that’s part of the problem. It felt like a memory, but I didn’t see all of it and there are aspects to it that don’t make sense.” He shakes his head. “I’m not ready to speak about it.”

Nero frowns. Vergil is still digging in his heels about it, but at least he’s finally explaining _why_ he is. “Does it have to do with your time as Nelo Angelo?”

“Yes.”

That’s what Nero had been afraid of. “Okay.” He blows out a breath. “Are you ever gonna tell me?”

“If I can ascertain certain things… then I – yes, I will.” The words are forced. It’s easy to tell, judging by the tone and Vergil’s uncomfortable expression that he very much wanted to say no.

The fact that he’s pushing himself this much means a lot to Nero. “Okay.” The least he can do is compromise and let the matter rest, for now. “If you’re done being an asshole,” Nero stands up and removes the ice pack from his face. He’s starting to not be able to feel his nose. “you can help me clean up the kitchen for Kyrie. She and Nico should be back soon.”

Vergil nods, moving to let Nero leave the room before he follows him. As the two clear the hallway and approach the kitchen, they see Dante sprawled out on the couch. He stretches and waves at the two. “You two get your shit sorted?”

“More or less,” Nero answers as he steps into the kitchen, putting away his ice pack. “We-”

A knock at the door cuts him off. Nero gestures for his father and uncle to wait as he heads to the front door and swings it open.

“Hello, Ner – OH!” Mrs. Satin claps a hand over her mouth when she gets a good look at Nero’s face. “Goodness gracious, Nero! What happened?”

“Just had a bit of an accident this morning,” Nero says, forcing a smile. “It looks worse than it is.”

“Do try to be more careful. Poor Kyrie will worry, and she does enough as is.” Mrs. Satin almost reaches up to him to examine his face but stops herself just before she does. “You’re icing it, I hope?”

“I am. Just took it off before I gave myself frostbite.” Nero gestures. “Did you need something?”

“I have a delivery for you, remember?” Mrs. Satin opens her bag and hands Nero an old, ragged-looking, leather-bound notebook. “I’m sorry for not getting it to you yesterday like I promised. Gracie hmm-ed and hawed forever about giving it to me. Savior be, you’d think I was asking her to hand over her life’s work or something,” she gripes.

Nero takes the notebook, carefully holding it lest it suddenly fall apart. Given its state, he wouldn’t be surprised if it did. “Mrs. Satin, thank you so much.”

“Don’t you think anything of it, dear. We all need to do our part to help. Now, I did tell Gracie that you or Kyrie would run it back as soon as you were done with it. In her defense, it’s not _her_ mother’s property we’re dealing with here.”

“Yeah, I didn’t plan on keeping it. Just wanted to look at it and see if I could…” Nero tucks the book under his arm. “We’ll bring it back safely. Thank you again.”

“Anytime. You and Kyrie let me know if there’s anything else I can do.” She shoulders her bag and smiles. “I’ve got to head to the Order’s office.”

Nero frowns. Mrs. Satin rarely associates with them. The town had been pretty split about the Order ever since the attack years ago. Some had chosen to keep supporting them, insisting they were still the best choice to keep the place running. But others had decided that the Order proved they weren’t to be trusted and wanted nothing to do with them. Mrs. Satin firmly falls in the second camp. “They bothering you?”

“Oh no no. Nothing like that, Nero, don’t you worry.” Mrs. Satin huffs out a little laugh. “One of the lieutenants is expecting. Miralee, remember? Captain Henley asked me to stop by to check on her and get her to slow down a bit. He’s worried she’s working too hard.”

_What work?_ Nero thinks with no shortage of disdain. The Order has been little more than a nuisance; they’ve long since stopped actually running the island. “Not sure what she’d be doing that’s so strenuous, but okay.”

“Don’t get me started, dear. But she’s a patient of mine. And really, the captain’s a good leader. He’s just looking out for his people. He’s no Credo, mind you, but he’s doing his best.”

There’s a sad smile shared between the two. “No one is,” Nero murmurs.

“On that we’re in agreement. But I’ve taken up enough of your time. I better find Miralee before she goes hoofing it somewhere and I have to hunt her down.” Mrs. Satin waves good-bye, flittering her fingers in a cutesy way before twirling around and hobbling off.

Nero waves in return, watching her leave before shaking his head with a smile. _She’s a character,_ he thinks with fond amusement as he closes the door. _But she’s one of the few people around here I actually like. She can be a little much, but at least she’s helpful._

When he steps back into the living room, his father and uncle are seated. Dante’s still on the couch and Vergil’s taken up residence in his preferred armchair. Dante cranes his head to look at Nero. “Who was that?”

“Aubrey Satin. She’s on the city council. She also is a midwife, sometimes. She’s… kind of retired? Who knows,” Nero explains as he takes a seat next to his father. “Also kind of a gossip, but she practically knows everyone in the city. She’s been helping Kyrie and I out with trying to find out what happened to my mom.” He holds up the notebook. “She got a hold of Sister Oliva’s notebook.”

Vergil sits up straighter, and even Dante’s intrigued enough to sit up as well. “The woman Mel rented from,” Vergil says as way of explanation to his brother. “Has her son returned already?”

Nero shakes his head. “No, but Mrs. Satin said that midwives usually keep their own personal records. Since there’s no official birth record of me, I hoped…” He looks down at the notebook nervously. He honestly doesn’t know what to expect, and he’s almost afraid to get his hopes up. But he knows he has to try. “This might be my best shot.”

“Hey.” Dante scoots over to the end of the couch and nudges him with his knee. “You won’t lose anything. Worst case scenario, you know as much as you do now. Best case, we get some answers.”

Nero nods, glancing nervously over at Vergil. His father nods to him. With a bracing breath, Nero carefully opens the notebook.

Immediately a few pages fall out. Nero lets loose a swear as he stuffs them back into the notebook. “This thing is gonna crumble on me,” he mutters as he sets the book out on the coffee table, lest he make more of a mess. “How far back does this go?”

Vergil, with just the tips of his fingers, lifts up the pages to take a look at the first entry. “At a glance? 1970.”

“And you were, what? 1996?” Dante shoves his finger well past the halfway point of the book and pushes it open. The first entry is dated June 1988. He shoves his finger further in and flips to the next randomly chosen spot. Now the entries state 1994.

“Getting close.” Nero swats Dante’s hand away, flipping through the pages more carefully as they draw closer to the year they’re looking for. The rest of 1994 and 1995 pass by in a flurry of pages. When Nero catches sight of 1996, he slows down. He turns each page over carefully, as to not accidentally pass by the entry he hopes is in there.

A few pages in, he sees March scrawled across the top of the page. His heartrate picks up. He scans through the entries, looking for his mother’s name. _Let it be here. Please let there be something here-_

He turns another page. Three entries down, some hastily written text catches his eye:

_March 18, 1996_

_My tenant went into labor last night around 6 P.M. First time. Young, too, she can’t be more than 20. Held her own, aside from the usual yelling and worrying. Leann assisted me. Tenant damn near kicked her teeth in. That’s what Leann gets for getting touchy-feely._

_She gave birth to a boy at 2:11 A.M. 7lbs, 9 oz. Ran the usual tests. Boy seems fine and healthy. She didn’t have a name for him yet. Don’t know how you don’t figure that out with several months’ warning, but not my concern. She’s an outsider, so this birth can’t be registered. She can take all the time she wants to settle on a name._

_She’ll be staying here to recover. Let her borrow my son’s old crib and baby clothes to start her out. I asked her again about the father. She insisted she had no way of contacting him. Given her age and the lack of support, I pointed her to the orphanage. She refused._

“…This. This is it.” Nero rereads the entry, a desperate attempt to glean more information from it. While it doesn’t give him as much as he had hoped, it still provides more than he had had. “March 18th.”

Vergil turns the book towards himself, reading over the entry. Dante leans over to take a look as well. Vergil faintly smiles. “That sounds like her.” He looks at Nero, reading the disappointment in his face. “Is this not what you wanted?”

“No, it is. I just…” Nero rubs the back of his head. “I wanted a name. And… I don’t know. Maybe something more? Something that points to what happened to her.”

“It eliminates a few possibilities,” Vergil points out. “She didn’t die in childbirth. And it confirms what I thought: she didn’t abandon you.”

“I guess she didn’t.” Nero supposes she might have changed her mind, but Vergil seems adamant that isn’t the case. “So, what the hell happened?”

“You were found at the orphanage on the 25th, right?” Dante asks.

“Around that time, yeah.” Nero pauses, seeing where Dante is going with this. “That’s a week. Whatever happened to her took place during that week.”

“And now we have a narrower timeframe to work within.” Vergil nods, solemnly pleased. He looks down at the journal. “…keep the page.”

“What?” Nero says in disbelief. “I can’t just steal a page from this.”

“No one is going to notice a page missing. With how poor of shape this book is in, her son could not possibly ascertain that you removed anything from it.” Without waiting for Nero to acquiesce, Vergil plucks the page from the book. It removes easily from the spine, practically falling into Vergil’s hand. He turns it over to Nero. “You have so little of her or anything about her as is. Take what you can get.”

It feels… not as wrong as Nero knows it should be. It’s stealing. _From a dead woman. Dad’s right, I don’t have anything, and this is the closest to a birth record I’ll ever get._ He nods and gingerly takes the page from Vergil. He’ll have to find a safe place to put it.

The front door opens, and in barges in Nico, loudly proclaiming she’s back, followed more quietly by Kyrie. She peers into the living room, her usual smile falling a bit when she sees the three men gathered in the living room. “Everything okay?”

Nero gets up, page in hand. “Mrs. Satin came by.”

\--

Vergil watches Nero as he walks over to Kyrie, showing her the page and telling her about what they found. They head into the kitchen, Kyrie peering over the page as Nico leans in to get a look. The three chatter among themselves, the girls bouncing theories around while Nero looks on, his scowl more pronounced than usual.

“…of course it’s the 18th.” Dante’s voice is low, audible only to Vergil.

Vergil pinches the bridge of his nose. The date hadn’t gone unnoticed by him either and he understands all too well why Dante’s bent up over it. “Fate has a sick sense of humor sometimes.”

“It just had to be the same night as the Temen-ni-gru.”

It’s hard not to feel guilty. Vergil had been so absorbed with furthering his own goals, costs be damned, and not being where he had been needed most. If he had just stayed in Fortuna a little while longer… He shakes his head. No point in dwelling on what-ifs. What’s done is done.

“Did she know?” Dante asks.

Vergil lifts a brow. “About the Temen-ni-gru?”

He nods.

“Somewhat. She knew that I planned to do something… extreme, but she didn’t know all the details. She knew I was capable of doing something like that. We butted heads over it multiple times. Most of them had been about my pursuit of power. The last one had been about the Temen-ni-gru specifically.” It had resulted in their worst argument, one that haunts him to this day.

“I’m surprised you even let yourself get dragged into an argument at all.”

“She gave me very little choice.”

* * *

“I still don’t get why you want all that power if you don’t even have a good reason for it.”

Vergil snapped shut the book he was perusing to look over at Mel. He thought that she dropped that argument. They hadn’t spoken about it since their spat in the mountain archive. “It’s none of your concern.”

From her perch against the wall, she glared at him. “I’d beg to differ. How are you going to even obtain that kind of power? What if that means unleashing the demons on the human world?”

“Then so be it. It’s hardly my concern.”

Mel’s head jerked back in shock. “The _hell_ is wrong with you? You live in this world, too! You’re not going to be unaffected if we suffer another invasion!”

“I can handle myself. When I have the power I need, nothing will threaten me.” He scoffed and tossed his book on the table. “I’m not interested in continu-”

“I am _not_ dropping this!” she snapped. “Why do you have so little regard for this world? You might be half demon, but you’re half human, too!”

“ _Don’t_ remind me!” Vergil snarled, the venom in his words taking even him by surprise. “I’m fully aware.”

“Yet you try real hard to forget. Why do you spurn it? What’s so bad about being human?”

Vergil almost laughed. _Humans always say that_ , he thought with an internal sneer. “What’s so bad about being an ant, to an ant? An ant thinks its life is just fine. But if it had a taste of being something bigger, something stronger, it would no longer think that. You never have been anything besides human. But I straddle being two different things. I know what it’s like to be more than human-”

“Oh, spare me the mightier-than-thou lecture.” Mel huffed in annoyance. “Yeah, I’m sure being super fast and strong is nice, but what else does it actually give you?”

“I don’t need anything else from it. Power is everything, Mel. Without it, you cannot control anything. You cannot have the strength to protect anything, not even yourself.”

“From _what_?” Mel snapped. “What can’t you already protect yourself from with the power that you currently have?”

“Plenty.” Vergil suddenly shoved his chair back, getting up without further word as he went over to the far wall. He plucked an old tome from the shelf and brought it back to his table, dropping it with no regard for its state or age. The enormous tome was bound in thick, dark leather. Silver lined the spine, running along the edges and also along the top and bottom edges of the book. On the front in engraved lettering was ‘Collecta textus daemonia onocentauris et alia animalia supernam’.

Mel gave him the stink-eye for a long moment before she pushed herself off the wall and met him at the table. She squinted at the Latin. “Collected texts of… demons, monsters and other supernatural creatures.” She flipped open the book. The pages were thick, full of details and small drawings about all manner of monsters. “What’s the point of this? I’m perfectly aware demons exist by this point.”

Vergil ignored her question as he flipped through the pages, seeking a particular entry he was certain was in there. He recognized some of the demons listed within. Those accounts were likely rudimentary and not complete, but given how old the book seemed, he was rather impressed they had gathered so much knowledge back then. But that wasn’t why he brought the book out.

Mel said nothing while Vergil searched the book. Her silence broke when Vergil finally stopped on the page he had been looking for. “Whoa.”

There was a large image on one side, with a wall of text on the other page. The image showed what appeared to be an incredibly large statue, marble white with three eyes on its face. “The text says its name is… Mundus?”

Vergil never met this particular demon, but he knew him well. Mundus most likely was the one who sent the demons to his home that fateful day ten years ago. His minions killed his mother and attempted to kill her sons. Vergil also suspected it was his underlings that hounded his steps everywhere he went. “This demon, Mundus, was called many things. The Prince of Darkness. King of the Underworld. The demon emperor. Take your pick as to which you prefer, but he was all those things.”

Mel’s brow shot up. “Are you suggesting he’s Satan?”

“Not quite. As far as I know, there is no Satan. Not in the theological sense. But if anyone comes closest to emulating him, it’d be Mundus. He led the demons when they tried to take over the human world thousands of years ago. He’s the one my father sealed away in order to stop the invasion.”

“Sealed? He didn’t kill him?”

“I don’t think he was able to.” His father once carried immense power. Likely he fought Mundus and at least came out victorious enough to be able to subdue and seal him. Surely if he was able, he would have killed Mundus. “And that seal held for nearly two thousand years. Unfortunately, it broke a few decades ago.”

“He’s back?” There was no shortage of panic in Mel’s voice.

Vergil hardly blamed her for it. “Yes. However, I doubt he has the power he once did. At least for now.”

It reassured her only a little, but she held her voice from shaking and asked, “How do you know all this?”

“Mostly it’s speculation. But those demons that occasionally attack? They’ve been hounding me for ten years. I can’t think of anyone else down there who would want me dead more than he would.”

Mel chewed on her lip, thinking through what he said. Vergil could see her put the pieces together as he watched a number of emotions play out across her face: shock, worry, and then fear. It returned in force, and he heard it in her voice as she said, “You said your father disappeared. Do you think Mundus has something to do with it?”

Believe it or not, Vergil never considered that. But it made a sickening amount of sense. After all, when Mundus awakened, his first target surely would have been Sparda. And his father spent two millennia cut off from the underworld, and consequently from his power. He would have been little match, even with Mundus weakened. The thought churned his stomach. Mundus destroyed his family, little by little. And he would continue to as long as he drew breath. “…it’s quite possible. I don’t know for certain.”

“Is he why you really want your father’s power?”

“He’s a considerable source of concern. And someday I need to confront him, rather than just keep killing his minions.”

Mel sighed in frustration. “I wish you had led with that. Wanting power in order to keep yourself safe and stop from being attacked makes more sense than just wanting power for power’s sake. Not to mention getting payback.”

He _did_ mostly want power for power’s sake (well, to put it very simply, as to go into the real psychological motivation behind it would require far more time and a willingness to open up than he was comfortable with). However, if Mel wanted to think that instead, he saw no reason to dissuade her. He told himself it was only because it would make dealing with her easier, should the topic pop up again. He certainly refused to consider that he did so because he wanted her to think well of him. Nope, no, definitely not.

“Well, come on then,” she insisted as she shut the book. “Let’s get searching for those answers.”

“Now you’re so eager to help?”

“Now that I know there’s a demon emperor lurking somewhere below us that could probably relaunch a war on humanity, yes. It’s not like your dad’s around anymore to stop him a second time, so it’s pretty much either gotta be you or your brother, right?”

And the thought of Dante taking on Mundus almost made Vergil laugh. Not that his brother was a pushover so much, but he seriously doubted Dante could even be bothered to go after the demon emperor, short of him burning down his favorite pizza parlor or some such nonsense.

“Although… is there no other way to do it besides getting your father’s power?” Mel glanced at Vergil. “Can it really be the only option?”

“Not unless I find something else in this library that can help.”

“…guess there’s only one way to find out.” Mel closed the book. “Vergil… if you have to unseal it, would you please at least try to contain whatever happens? I don’t know what your damage is with being human but remember that all the books you love and the foods you enjoy… that came from humans. If the demons come and destroy us, that all goes away.” She shrugged a little. “I mean… not all humans are so bad, right? Aren’t any of us worth saving?”

Once upon a time, Vergil would have said that he couldn’t think of anyone in particular worth saving. But before the words formed, he realized that was a lie. There was now at least one he didn’t want to see harmed.

He told himself not to get attached. But he did so anyway, despite his “better” judgment. Not only did he fail to heed his own warning, he found himself unable to be upset about it. He liked this human girl. He liked her kindness and her patience. He liked that she wasn’t afraid of challenging him, but also that she still liked him despite their differences. And he _wanted_ to keep liking her.

“Perhaps one or two.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the terrible Latin but I don't know a drop of it, so Google translate it was.
> 
> To all the American readers, hope you have a good Thanksgiving (if you celebrate)!


	10. Desperation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Vergil and Nero commit a crime, Vergil recounts the time he tried to flirt... and then nearly died.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for blood and violence and just general squickiness from a really nasty fight.
> 
> This will probably be the last update before the new year, so happy holidays to all of you! Here's to hoping 2021 isn't a dumpster fire...

Nero turns the torn journal entry over in his hands as he half-listens to Kyrie talk on the phone.

“Sorry,” she murmurs. “I know this is a bit last minute, but we’re changing the celebration to the 18th. It’s his actual birthday.” She listens, then smiles. “Yeah, he found out the real date. So we wanted to celebrate it on the right day. But if you can’t make it, I understand…” Another pause, then Kyrie nods. “Okay. Thanks for understanding, Trish. We’ll see you then.” She hangs up. “Trish said she can make it on the 18th. I’m still waiting to hear from Lady and Morrison.”

“You didn’t have to reschedule all of this,” he says with more than a slight hint of guilt.

“It wouldn’t have felt right to celebrate it on the 25th when we know the real date.” She worries her lip. “Unless you still wanted to…?”

“No, I agree.” He smiles in reassurance as he gets up, leaving the paper on the table as he walks over to Kyrie to pull her into a hug. “I just know it’s a lot of trouble, moving things up by a whole week.”

“I don’t mind. And I don’t think the others will, either.” She wraps her arms around him, holding him close. “Besides, I think your father and uncle aren’t going to complain about getting cake a week earlier.”

Nero’s shoulders shake in a silent laugh. “Definitely not. Pretty sure they come down to visit mostly just to have your cooking,” he jokes.

“That’s not true.” Still, she smiles, knowing he’s joking. “Though I know they enjoy it. I’ll have to do a bit of extra shopping now that Dante is here.”

“Yeah…” Dante would have been here eventually, but Nero and Vergil’s (not-so) little spat hurried his arrival by several days. And since he was here, Dante had decided he might as well stay. “Where is he, anyway?”

“The boys dragged him outside earlier. I have a feeling he’s part of one of their games.”

“Good, someone else can entertain them for a bit.” His uncle is accounted for now, which just leaves... “And my father?”

“He was on the back porch last I saw.” Kyrie leans back, wondering at this line of questioning. “Did you need them?”

“Dante’s fine where he is. But I might need my dad for something.” His earlier smile’s gone, replaced by a pensive frown.

“…for?”

Nero looks away sheepishly. She’s not gonna be a fan of this idea, but… “Nathaniel’s not due back for days, and the journal’s not giving me anything else. You haven’t been able to turn up more from the town, so…”

Kyrie sighs; as he thought, she isn’t thrilled. “Nero, you nearly got caught the last time you broke into the headquarters. What if you’re caught this time?”

“I can handle the Order.” That’s not what Kyrie is worried about, and he knows it. “If Henley kicks up a fuss I’ll… smooth things over. But I’m gonna do everything I can to not get caught.” His frown deepens. “Something tells me he’ll be extra pissed if he catches me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Right after my dad came, Nico and I ran into Henley and Scarlet when we were picking up stuff. When I mentioned I was hoping to learn more stuff about my mom, he got really cagey. Said something about being careful and that I might not be happy with what I find.”

Now Kyrie frowns. “That’s strange. Henley’s not usually the doom and gloom type. And why would he…” As she trails off, she and Nero’s eyes meet. There’s a moment of silence as an uncomfortable possibility dawns on them. “You don’t think he…”

“…Maybe.” Nero shakes his head. “He’s been with the Order a long time. It’s possible he knows something.”

“L – let’s not jump to conclusions,” Kyrie says, her voice shaking. “But, if you are going to go into headquarters, then please, _please_ be careful.”

“I will. My old man will be with me.” Not that Nero’s worried about his safety. It’s more that he wants a second pair of eyes. “Lemme find him and get going.”

He kisses her, a comforting smile against her lips before he pulls back. He can see the concern in her expression, but as much as he wants to reassure her, he knows he can’t. There’s no guarantee this is going to go well. But he has to try, and he hopes she understands that.

He leaves her standing by the phone as he strides towards the kitchen. He looks out the window and sure enough, Vergil’s sitting on one of the lawn chairs, watching the kids and Dante curiously. From a glance, Nero can’t quite tell what the boys have dragged Dante into, but he’s being a good sport and playing along.

Nero pushes open the back door. The tell-tale groan catches Vergil’s attention. “Your uncle has been roped into a game of keep away.”

“Is that what they’re doing?” Nero watches the three in the backyard. Dante closes his eyes and the boys start laughing, poking at him and dodging out of his way just before he can reach out and grab them. Nero’s certain he’s going easy on them; if he really tried, he could nab them both before they blinked. “At least it’ll keep them occupied. You wanna keep watching or…?”

“Not particularly.” Vergil inclines his head. “What do you have in mind?”

“You up for some B&E?”

That gets him to cock a brow. “Into where?”

“Order headquarters. I want to do some digging. Oliva’s son isn’t gonna be back for a few more days, and even he might not have answers. I’m not waiting around anymore.”

Vergil nods before getting up. “I will accompany you. I’m curious if the Order has something as well.” But as Nero begins to head back inside, Vergil adds, “Nero. Do we need to be armed?”

That gives Nero pause, because it’s a good question. He’s _fairly_ certain the Order won’t actually attack them for trespassing. Nero doesn’t plan on putting up that much of a fight. Still, Henley’s attitude about this search has been bothering him and he doesn’t know if Henley is just being a pessimist, or if there’s more going on. “If we go in with weapons it might look bad. Normally I’d feel like they wouldn’t force this to come to blows, but…”

“Why don’t I bring the Yamato and you bring your gun? I hardly walk anywhere without it. And your gun’s always hidden in your coat.”

“Yeah, that should work.” Hopefully neither of them will need to use their weapons. “I’ll grab the Rose. Once you have Yamato, we’ll head out.”

“Should we not wait until nightfall?”

“They ramp up security more at night. I’m not exactly the first person to have broken into the place, and the others who have always came in at night.” Nero walks inside, listening for his father to follow behind him before he continues. “Besides, the place is right on the water. Pretty dangerous to do it at night, even if you know where you’re going.”

“Why did others break in?” Vergil asks as he bends down to pick Yamato up from its usual perch against the armchair in the living room.

Nero grabs the Blue Rose from the locked drawer he keeps it in. “They wanted answers. After the attack six years ago, the Order’s standing plummeted. Some still believe in them, and they’re the best defense we have. But a lot of people no longer trust them and wanted to find out what else they have been hiding.”

The two of them make for the door, Nero calling out good-bye to Kyrie before they leave the house. Vergil falls into step next to Nero as they begin the rather long trek to headquarters. “The Order didn’t crack down on the town for the break-ins?”

“They can’t. Not like they used to. They lost a lot of power on the island. The city council condemned the break-ins but didn’t do much else. So the Order beefed up security at the headquarters. It’s pretty much deterred any break-in attempts since then.”

“Except you.”

“Except me.” Nero shrugs. “It’s only the second time I’ve done this. First time was to get some info for Nico. I try not to make waves with the Order, but this is too important.” If they have nothing about his mother – which he doubts – then he’ll leave them be. But if he does find something, then this might not be the last time he sneaks into the headquarters. Which is not the easiest thing to do, and he’s not looking forward to round two. “You didn’t by chance happen to be in there when you were here way back when?”

“No.” Vergil shakes his head. “Your mother and I made it a point to avoid going anywhere near the place. The town barely tolerated us as it was. Making any attempt to enter that fortress would have resulted in far more trouble than either of us wanted.”

_Damn, there goes using Yamato to get in._ Nero nods, not altogether surprised by the answer. “Didn’t want to square off with them?”

“No. Not because I couldn’t handle them, but because it would have made my search for answers significantly more difficult.” Then, in a softer tone he adds, “It also would have put Mel in unnecessary danger. She was in enough of it around me as is.”

“Yeah, but you guys were just attacked by the run-of-the-mill demons, right? Nothing you couldn’t handle.”

“For the most part, yes.”

“…for the most part?”

Vergil blows out a sigh through his nose. “Mel had never been in any significant danger since we had met, not until a particular incident well into our stay here.”

“Was she okay?”

“Mel made it out of it fine, albeit rather shaken up.”

Nero senses where this is going. “But not you.”

“Obviously I pulled through, but… well, it’d be easier just to explain it to you.”

* * *

Vergil never really _liked_ anyone before, at least not since his mother died. He always kept to himself. At best, he had made a few associates whom he got along with. But those had been few and far between, and never did the relationship outlast his reason for making it in the first place. Once he had what he wanted, he cut ties.

But now he had Mel to consider. He liked her. That much he knew and, despite himself, he accepted it. She _seemed_ to like him. She kept putting up with him, anyway, and even said she liked him when he wasn’t being an asshole. Yet he didn’t know what to _do_ with that. He was uncertain if there was anything he _could_ do. When he eventually found what he wanted, they would part ways. The thought of that left an ache in his chest that he didn’t quite understand.

In fact, there were quite a lot of things he didn’t understand. Well, really, it was just _one_ thing but there was a whole lot else wrapped up around her that puzzled him. Even after two months, Vergil still hadn’t quite figured her out. Mel spoke and carried herself in a rather unrefined manner, and yet the breadth of her knowledge matched, if not surpassed Vergil’s own. She smacked him down with her words, but then in the next moment she would be smiling again. She made herself at home anywhere and could blend in with any place. She had no home and no family, and yet she clearly valued both. Vergil barely understood her own point of view on many things, but somehow she made her words resonate with him and reconsider his own stance, something no one had ever managed. She was a paradox and an enigma. And a very pretty one at that.

A loud, dramatic moan yanked him from his thoughts. He looked over to find Mel flopped over the table. “My brain has stopped working,” she announced. “Words are running together. Time has ceased functioning. I’m not even sure any of this is happening.”

Vergil sighed. “We have been at it for some time. Perhaps we should stop for the night. Even my eyes are aching.” Which, coming from a half-demon was saying a lot. “And you must be rather hungry.”

“You’re not wrong.” Invigorated now, Mel removed herself from her sprawled out perch and strolled towards the exit. “I could kill for some seafood. Mmm, maybe some oysters. Or lobster tail. It’s been forever since I had some good lobster.”

Vergil cocked a brow at her as they left the room. “I think you’ll find yourself out of luck in that regard. They mostly sell fish here, and sometimes clams.”

“Guess I’ll have to settle for salmon then,” she said with a dejected sigh. “What’s a girl with refined taste to do when she’s stuck on a backwater island?”

“…that’s rather rich coming from the same girl who believes in the five second rule of food dropped on the floor.”

“Hey! ‘Waste not, want not’. I can be practical while also refined.” She grinned as she walked backwards, facing him as they made their way out. “It’s how I like my men, too.”

Vergil’s eyes briefly widened. _Is she… flirting?_ It sounded like it. But he was so far from being anywhere remotely familiar with the practice that he could be entirely wrong. He quickly narrowed his eyes to recover his composure as he snidely added, “You have discerning tastes all around.”

“I don’t think that’s such a bad thing.” Mel tilted her head. “But what about you?”

“I’m not interested in men.”

She huffed out a laugh. “Well, good to know. So, what about _your_ taste in women? What do you look for?” She paused, and as soon as she saw Vergil frown, she sighed. “Let me guess, you haven’t given it any thought.”

“No, I haven’t.” He might be slightly alarmed that she could read him so well, but he reassured himself with the rather self-depreciating thought that it hardly should surprise _anyone_. “My goals leave no room for such entanglements.”

“…you are the worst adolescent I’ve ever met,” she said with a sad shake of her head. “Come on. You at least should have a slight inkling as to what you’d be attracted to.”

_This is foolish,_ he thought. _Why does it matter?_ Romance never crossed his mind. It would just be a distraction. But even as he internally sneered at the idea, his mind turned over Mel’s question. He could indulge her for a moment. “My… _taste_ would lean towards someone who was ambitious and as goal-oriented as me. I suppose practical as well. I don’t tolerate flightiness.”

“I never would have guessed,” Mel said drolly. “Similar interests and hobbies, too?”

“Of course. Particularly reading.” And for just a moment, some torrent of emotion seized him. He _very_ pointedly looked at her and said in a low voice, “And they should have refined taste, too.”

For just a passing moment Mel looked flabbergasted at Vergil’s attempt at flirting. It might not have been the best attempt anyone had ever made, but coming from him it was astounding. Then, when the shock passed, a smile slowly bloomed. “Aren’t we just two peas in a pod?”

His moment of flirtatious bravado passed, and Vergil quickly swiveled his head away, desperately trying to stop his ears from turning red. “It’s – this is just – it’s foolish. Let us be done with it.”

“Of course.” There was nothing but delight in her tone. And perhaps just a shade of satisfaction, too.

_Damn it,_ he cursed at himself as they walked outside. _Why did I say that? This – I don’t need any – it’s-_ Despite his rather weak attempt at flirting, that he even tried at all boggled him. What had come over him? He always had an icy, unflinching grip on his emotions (save for whenever Dante was around). That he would let that slip for even just a moment bothered him. Immensely. Once again, Mel found a way to trip him up without even trying. _How_?

He was so caught up in his thoughts that he almost didn’t see the demon coming.

Only a flash of movement to his left gave it away. Vergil barely had time to grab Mel and pivot before the demon rushed by them, its sword narrowly missing their heads. By the time Mel even had the presence of mind to scream, they had skidded back nearly twenty feet.

Vergil roughly shoved her behind him before drawing out Yamato. Blade pointed at the demon, Vergil sneered. “Well well, it looks like he finally sent something of an actual challenge.”

Whatever this demon was, Vergil had never seen its ilk before. It had a sturdy looking carapace that resembled plated armor. At its side was a long, wicked looking serrated blade. Tall, stocky, and muscled, the demon promised to be a defensive tank and not easy to take down. And should Vergil misstep, that sword would make him pay dearly.

(It was only in hindsight, decades later, that Vergil realized that this demon was likely an early prototype of the Angelo demon that he would wind up defining less than a year later.)

The demon’s response was a silent gesture: a flick of its wrist, followed by a lightning speed charge straight at Vergil.

Sparda’s son grunted, hurtling himself forward to meet the demon’s charge. Yamato ground against the serrated blade as he pushed back against him. “Mel, hide!”

Vergil heard her footsteps retreat, likely back towards the cavern they had just left. She needed to stay out of sight and out of the way; this would not be a quick battle.

The demon shoved Vergil back, attempting to make an opening and strike. But Vergil was a bit too quick and wily; he sidestepped and slashed, catching the demon in its side. It would have made for a nice wound had the carapace not been there. All it managed to do was crack it, and even then only minimally. Vergil made a small sound of frustration as he leapt back. He was going to have to hit hard and fast. If the demon was slower that wouldn’t be an issue.

But it very much was not. Just as soon as Vergil put some space between them, the demon closed the gap and swung down. Vergil parried. He stepped around to get another swing of his sword in. But the demon spun on its heel and met his sword with its own. It shoved Vergil back again, this time with much more force. Vergil stumbled back and only barely managed to block another blow.

The first minute of the battle played out similarly. They would dance and dodge around each other, taking swings when they could. Vergil was slightly faster, but he did not have the armor his opponent had. He hacked at it, bit by bit. Yamato could make quick work of it if he had the opportunity, but the demon wouldn’t stay still long enough for him to manage that.

For his part, Vergil mostly managed to avoid getting hit. There were a few blows he wound up taking, either by mistake or to avoid a worse hit. His wounds stung, but they didn’t slow him down.

In a stroke of luck, Vergil scored two serious hits on the demon, knocking off a huge portion of its armor and exposing vulnerable flesh. _Finally._ He sent a few of his summon swords at the demon, sticking them in the exposed parts. The demon grunted in pain. Vergil saw his opening and closed in with a quick step. One good jab through it and that should finish the fight. Or so he thought.

It was too late by the time Vergil realized his mistake. The demon recovered far quicker than he anticipated. Its sword caught Vergil’s by the tip and it swung out in a long arc, leaving Vergil completely exposed. It clenched its fist and brought it back before punching it straight into Vergil’s gut.

His shirt tore and he buckled over as the demon’s fist slammed straight through him, making a ghastly hole into Vergil’s insides. As he registered what was happening, Vergil was lifted and flung back towards the cavern. He collided into the stone wall next to the door. Slumping to the ground, Vergil weakly clung to Yamato as he struggled to stand. He coughed up blood.

The demon was in front of him in an instant, ramming his sword through the wound his fist just made. Vergil bit back a scream as it dragged the serrated edge through him. The demon grabbed his throat and squeezed. Vergil weakly tried to swing Yamato into its side. But the Yamato was no dagger, and its length worked against him. He resorted to kicking, but with the rapid blood loss and the loss of air, Vergil was quickly losing strength… and consciousness.

Three shots rang out from the side. One missed the demon, but the other two struck. The shots startled it more than they harmed it. It loosened its grip on Vergil as it turned to look at who dared to shoot at it.

Mel stood on the opposite end of the door, gun pointed and staring down the demon. Her hands shook, but she swallowed and fought to steady herself as she took aim again.

The demon tossed Vergil to the side, sending him skidding away in the opposite direction. A gunshot rang out just as he hit the ground. Vergil managed to right himself and look up just in time to hear Mel scream and see her be grabbed by the demon. It slammed her against the wall. Her gun clattered to the ground as she grabbed at the demon’s hand. Vergil shouted for her as he vainly tried to get his legs under him to stand.

“I will kill you, human. Your blood will sustain me as I-”

Mel cut it off by spitting in its face.

The demon stared, unmoving. Vergil fought to get to his feet. As he tried, the demon’s shock wore off. It drew back its fist, aiming to do to Mel what it did to Vergil. But unlike him, she would not be able to survive the blow.

A guttural, inhuman sound clawed out of Vergil’s throat. His demonic power surged through him. It was a power he knew well, but now, it felt _different._ It was raw, unhinged, and all-consuming. His vision went red, and the pain vanished. Without even thinking, he moved in a flash, faster than he ever had before. He rammed into the demon with a sickening crunch and sent all three of them to the ground. Mel collapsed into a heap where she had been standing. Vergil and the demon collided and landed just feet away from her.

In the back of his mind, Vergil knew something wasn’t quite right. He perceived everything differently; everything looked sharper, _felt_ sharper. But he was far too focused on his enemy to give it much more thought. He grabbed the demon’s remaining carapace and ripped it off. With the demon fully exposed now, he took Yamato and jabbed it into the demon’s underbelly. As it screamed and thrashed, Vergil dug Yamato in deeper until it punched through the demon and out its back, the tip scratching the ground. He then shifted and in one agile movement, he sliced up. He cut open the demon from stomach to neck, Yamato pulling out with a sickening spray of blood. The demon convulsed and twitched as it bled out.

Vergil staggered back, breath heaving. It was then that he looked down and realized what happened. His clothes and human body were gone, replaced by a demonic form. He stared down at his hands – now claws – in a mix of awe and shock. But as the adrenaline faded, it became a struggle to maintain the form. In seconds it disappeared, and his human form returned… and his earlier pain with it. Vergil’s head spun. He slumped to the ground, gripping at his wound.

“Vergil!” Mel scrambled over to him on her hands and knees. “Hey, come on. Stay with me.” She turned him over so he was looking up. She hissed as she got a good look at his wound. “Oh, _fuck._ We – but you can’t move like this. I…”

“I’ll be fine.” Vergil gritted his teeth. “It’ll heal soon.”

“He punched a hole through you! I get you’ve got the whole half-demon thing going on, but that’s-”

“Mel,” Vergil cut her off. “It. Will. Heal. I just need a few minutes.”

“…okay.” Mel shrugged off her top shirt, leaving her in just a tank top. She balled it up and pressed it against Vergil’s wound. “You’re still bleeding.”

Vergil tried to sit up, but his head spun. Mel shoved him back down. “Nuh uh. Don’t get up. You’ll make the bleeding worse.”

Resigned to laying on the ground for now, Vergil looked over at Mel. “Did I…?”

“Turn into a demon? Yeah, you did. It was…” Mel shook her head in disbelief. “Terrifying. But also kind of awesome? You _nailed_ that asshole.”

So, he had a demonic form. That made sense. As a being of both worlds, he would have a form for each. He would need to experiment with it more later to see how he could bring it out. It gave him a _tremendous_ amount of power. But not quite enough for what he wanted. “I see. That was a surprise.”

“You didn’t know about it?”

“No. That was the first time it happened.” Vergil’s expression hardened. “That was reckless, what you did. I told you bullets barely do anything to demons.”

“What was I supposed to do, just let him kill you?!”

“Better just one of us dies than both of us. What good would that do?”

Mel sighed, long and hard. “Vergil, I did it because I wanted to help. I couldn’t stand there and watch you die. Even if it was a long shot, it was better than doing nothing.” She then tilted her head as she gave him a curious look. “Besides, if we go by that logic: why did you barrel over here to save me?”

“Because he was going to kill you and-” Vergil belatedly realized where she was going with this. “That’s different. I stood a chance of stopping him.”

“Did you know that at the time? You had your insides carved out, and you couldn’t even stand. Sure, you managed to go all demon, but you were trying to get up even before that happened.” Mel raised a brow. “So?”

“It’s different.”

“How?”

“It just is.”

Mel scoffed. “It isn’t and you know it. You did it for the same reason I shot at it.”

Vergil pouted. “…it’s-”

“The same.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes it is, you brat!” Mel admonished with a laugh. “Now you’re being childish. And since you can’t give me a good reason to the contrary, I’m claiming this victory.” Her smile faded after a moment. “But seriously… thank you.”

Vergil wanted to squirm. He wasn’t used to being thanked like this. “It’s nothing.”

“Says the guy with a hole in him.” Mel reached up and brushed something off his face. “You’re a mess,” she teased. “Even your hair is all mussed up. I kind of like it though.”

Vergil stiffened from her glancing touch. It was so brief, but it felt nice. Warm and welcoming. That, coupled with the compliment, left him speechless. All he could do was make a noncommittal sound, pretending to sound disinterested as he looked away.

* * *

“Whoa. So that’s how you discovered your devil form?”

Vergil nods as he and Nero trek through the dense forest. The road to Order HQ winds its way through the forest, a permanent leftover from the demon invasion six years ago, before coming out and beelining for the coast. They couldn’t be too far now.

“Yes. A charged emotional state and desperation are the best combination to bring it out the first time.”

“Believe me, I know.” Nero cocks his head. “How did Dante find his?”

Vergil hesitates. Nero’s learned a lot about his past, and Dante’s as well, but the Temen-ni-gru incident remains unknown to him. He knows it can’t last forever, but he’s not sure now is the right time for that. “Differently than us, but that’s a long story. One we don’t have time for. We seem to be getting close.”

The forest thins out, giving way to a stretch of grass before the extended stone bridge to the headquarters. The two hurry along the road, the conversation forgotten as they instead focus on looking out for guards.

“Weird,” Nero says as they approach. “There’s usually someone around. But I don’t see anyone posted anywhere.”

“What do you recommend then?”

He shrugs. “Let’s try the front. No reason to go through all the trouble of sneaking in if they left the front door unlocked.”

Sure enough, as they finish crossing the bridge and reach the front entrance, there is no one around and the door swings open without issue. Nero’s frown deepens as they step inside. They both look around, expecting someone to come running. But no one does. They’re met only with silence.

“I don’t like this,” Nero says. “They’re never this careless.”

“Something else may be drawing their attention. Another intruder, perhaps.” Vergil begins to walk. “Not our concern. Don’t let it distract you from what you came here for.”

“…right.” Nero, still clearly uneasy about the whole situation, gets into step alongside his father.

He leads them through the building, taking old, unused passageways to get to where he wants to go. The entire journey through the building is uneventful. They come across no one else. Vergil’s almost certain that none of the Order is here right now. Which admittedly _is_ odd, but again, not his concern. It’ll make their break-in a lot easier.

Eventually Nero slows as they approach a heavy, iron wrought door. He gestures to Vergil to keep quiet (like he hasn’t been the entire time) before he tries the handle. He leans his shoulder against the door and pushes. With a groan that is far louder than either would like, the door swings open.

They are greeted with towering shelves and filing cabinets. Every available inch along the long, seemingly never-ending walls of the room is filled with them. The room’s only other occupants are two tables and matching chairs for each that sit smack dab in the middle of the space. “The record room, I take it.”

“Yep. The Order’s dirty secrets are in here.” Nero walks in confidently; he’s clearly familiar with this place. “If they’ve got something on my mom, it’s in here.”

“Any idea where to start looking?”

“That’s the hard part. I’ve got a rough idea of how it’s organized, but there are still a ton of shelves and cabinets I haven’t looked in yet. I’m not sure where they would keep something like that.”

This promises to be a headache, then. Vergil pinches the bridge of his nose. “Where have you already looked? That way we can rule out possibilities and then start… somewhere.”

Nero points out where he’s searched, which amounts to only a half dozen shelves and two cabinets. Not as many as Vergil had hoped, but it can’t be helped. He sticks Yamato under his belt, picks a cabinet, and gets to searching. Nero does the same, choosing a shelf not too far from him.

It’s a long, tedious process. Not that they had expected anything less. Vergil finds only invoices and detailed ledgers. The Order was meticulous, he’ll give them that, but nothing here tells him what they want to know. After going through half the cabinet, he gives up on it and starts on another, hoping for something more substantial than how many new uniforms the Order requisitioned from 1981 to 1985.

He chooses poorly again. He’s traded invoices for inventory papers. He sighs, half-assedly paging through maybe a quarter of the files before writing off this cabinet, too. He slams the door shut and moves onto a shelf above him. As he pulls a folder from off the shelf, he hears a similarly frustrated sigh as Nero shuffles to another shelf. He’s not having much more luck, either.

Vergil spares a glance to his son. Nero yanks out a hefty, over-stuffed folder and drops it onto the table. He flips through the papers, brow creased in concentration. And the look on his face punches Vergil straight through the heart. It looks just like the expression Mel wore when she concentrated. It’s almost exactly the same, from the way his brow is furrowed to the way his lips twist. It’s not the first time he’s seen Nero imitate Mel, but this one strikes him more profoundly for reasons he can’t quite place.

Nero looks up, pausing in his search when he catches his father staring. “What? Did you find something?”

“No.” Vergil looks back at the file he’s supposed to be searching. “It’s…” The sentiment and nostalgia almost choke him. The words are hard fought for as he says, “You have a lot of her expressions and mannerisms.”

“…I do?”

“Yes. The look you have when you concentrate. Some of your hand gestures, too. There’s this glare you sometimes have that’s a lot like hers. And… you have her smile.”

“I thought I didn’t have anything from her. It doesn’t feel like it.”

“Trust me, you do. You might take after me physically, and for better or worse we share some personality traits.” He snorts. “And you definitely take after Dante, too. But… you are your mother’s son, through and through.”

He forces himself to look back at Nero. His son looks thoughtful as he pages through the documents in front of him. There’s a smile tugging at his lips, though it’s not a happy one. “That’s…”

The moment, poignant as it is, ends abruptly when agitated voices echo from outside the room. They both snap their heads up in alarm. “It seems we aren’t alone after all.”

“Where the hell have they been?” Nero quickly shoves the file he has back onto the shelf. Vergil does the same before following Nero out the door.

The hallway seems empty for now, but it may not stay that way. “We gotta go,” Nero says.

Vergil draws out Yamato. “This will be faster. And now that I’ve been here, I can get us back with Yamato next time.”

“Good.” Nero keeps a lookout as Vergil draws a portal with Yamato. “Especially since we’re gonna have to come back. We barely got to look.” As the portal appears, Nero quickly pushes the door shut, wincing as the sound echoes.

And as he feared, the sound attracts attention. Someone shouts, asking who’s there. Vergil gets the portal open just as footsteps approach. Both men all but throw themselves through it, closing the portal behind them as they narrowly escape notice.


	11. Female Persuasion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vergil reminisces on the start of the battle with his greatest foe: teenage hormones. Nero starts to get real suspicious of Henley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New year, new chapter. Hope everyone's had a good start to this year. Enjoy some teenage dumbassery and ridiculousness.

There’s a showdown going on in the house right now. Vergil and Dante have front seats to the show, but they’re making a point to remain quiet.

“Nero, no.”

After all, _they_ don’t want Kyrie’s wrath aimed at them, either.

Nero sighs and crosses his arms. “I get you’re worried, but-”

“There’s no reason to go back there right now.” Kyrie leans back against the wall, every bit as stubborn as Nero. “At least wait until we hear from Nathaniel before you go and do anything. You almost got caught last time.”

“And we have no idea when he’ll be back. The Order isn’t going to do anything about it besides give me crap.”

“Then why did you and your father bring weapons when you broke in?”

No retort. Nero’s got nothing, so he just looks away, petulant but at a loss. There’s a stretch of silence that follows as the argument comes to a standstill.

Kyrie straightens up and walks over to Nero. Gently, she rubs her hands up and down his arms. “I know it’s hard. I just don’t want you to throw yourself into trouble over this.”

Nero uncrosses his arms, his expression softening. “If it gets me answers though…”

“You’ll get the answers in time. And if we have no other choice than to look into the Order, then okay. We’ll figure it out. All I’m asking is that you be careful. I know you’re not afraid of the Order. But I still am. And Henley has Carlo now. I don’t want to make waves if we can avoid it.” When Nero still seems unconvinced, Kyrie takes his hands in hers and squeezes. “Please.”

Nero’s resolve crumbles under her pleading words. He sighs and draws her into an embrace. “All right. I’ll wait.” He huffs out a laugh and kisses the top of her head. “Don’t know what I was thinking. I can’t say no to you for long.”

From the living room, Dante quietly chuckles under his breath. “It’s like you could see his spine collapse like an accordion in real time.”

“It’s not as if her argument was unreasonable,” Vergil retorts.

“This wasn’t a battle of making a reasonable point.” Dante shakes his head. “It was more… the principle than anything. Standing your ground and sticking to what you think is right, no matter what.”

“That’s just foolishness.”

“Maybe, but that’s what was happening.” He gestures to the couple. “He only caved when she gave him the pleading puppy eyes. Face it: your son can stare unflinching into the jaws of demonic death, but he folds the moment a girl bats her eyes at him.”

“I think it’s one specific girl and he only ‘folds’ when she makes an entirely reasonable argument.”

“Deny it all you want,” Dante teases as he gets up and stretches. “He’s got a weakness for women.”

Vergil rolls his eyes. _Acquiescing to the suggestion of one woman doesn’t make him weak._ He darts his eyes back over to Nero and Kyrie, who are still conversing in the kitchen. _And one specific woman at that. That’s just…_

* * *

Vergil felt like he’d been living in a fog. Ever since the armored demon attacked and he’d first brought out his devil form, his head didn’t feel screwed on right. Of course, he initially attributed it to activating that form. Perhaps it was some kind of side effect. But as the days ticked by, he began to suspect something else was to blame.

Or some _one._

“Vergil?”

He blinked and found Mel staring at him, looking mostly amused but also a little confused. “Yes?”

“You with me?” She smiled. “Sorry if my tangent about Tarantino got a little long.”

Vergil shrugged. “I got the gist of it: don’t bother with _Pulp Fiction_.”

“Pretty much.” Mel’s smile fell as she set down her book. “Is there something wrong?”

“No.”

“…Vergil.” She sighed and got up, opting to take a seat next to him. “You’ve been distracted a lot the last few days. And sometimes you have this really… intense look on your face when you’re looking at me. Are you upset with me?”

“I said no,” he repeated, his tone impatient. “There’s nothing wrong.”

“Really? Because from where I’m sitting, there’s something bothering you.”

“Why are you insisting on this?”

“Because I want you to talk to me and tell me what’s wrong.” She gestured helplessly. “I promise I’m not going to laugh or anything. I just want to help.”

“I can’t-” Vergil shot up from his seat and walked several paces away. _What am I supposed to tell her? What does she want from me?_ His temper threatened to surface; he desperately wanted to snap at her and drive her away. But that never worked on her. It usually just made her dig her heels in. That left him with either denying it or admitting it, and since denial wasn’t getting him anywhere… _This is foolishness. Complete and utter insanity. This is why I should never have gotten close._

“Hey.” When he focused his attention back to reality and away from his whirling thoughts, he found himself staring down at the floor and Mel standing in front of him. “Now I definitely know something’s wrong.” She took his bunched fists in her hands. “Talk to me. Please.”

She likely intended for her touch to comfort. Instead it just sent his mind into a frenzied tailspin. It was the most direct, prolonged physical contact between them to date. He wanted to think, to try and calculate the best course of action. Now she made it impossible as his attention diverted straight to how her hands felt over his. It was a foreign feeling, one he hadn’t had since he was a child. Whereas he might have normally balked at the contact, he craved it instead. Like he was… starved for affection, or something.

“Vergil-”

“You’re driving me to distraction!” The words tumbled out before he could filter them.

“I’m trying to help you! I don’t know-”

He shook his head, frustration leaking into his voice as he clarified, “No, that’s – that’s what’s bothering me. I’m answering your question.” He ripped his hands away from her and ran them through his hair in an attempt to calm his mind enough to speak and not sound like a stuttering buffoon. “My head feels like it’s in a fog, you’re constantly in my thoughts even when we’re not talking or – or doing anything remotely involving you, and whenever you put your hands on me I…”

_…oh._

Vergil was completely and totally inexperienced with this sort of thing but he had read things and seen enough media to have a basic grasp of the concept. When he finally put words to his thoughts and feelings, the answer was plainly – almost pathetically – obvious.

Of course, Mel, who was far savvier about those sorts of things than he was, caught on almost immediately. Her worried expression shifted to a charming, almost sly smile. “Vergil… are you trying to tell me you like me?”

_I am a fool. I am an idiotic, incomprehensibly stupid fool._ His back stiffened and he scowled: desperate attempts to appear unruffled despite being the complete opposite. “If I didn’t find you tolerable, I wouldn’t have continued with-”

Mel rolled her eyes. “Stop being obtuse. You know what I mean.”

What he wouldn’t have given in that moment to have an enemy to fight, for a demon to appear and attack. Just so he could feel sure of himself again instead of standing there, mentally flailing. It was one of the few moments in his adolescence where he was much less a son of Sparda and more a regular teenage boy. “That seems to be the best explanation for this, yes,” he said, admitting to it without actually saying it.

Her eyes widened. “Oh. You… I didn’t think you’d admit it.” Mel brushed back her hair. “I… really?”

_…so this is it. This is what will push her away._ Not his temper or mood swings, or his occasional disdain for humanity or sharp bluntness, but his own damn feelings, which he warned himself repeatedly about, but of course he didn’t listen. He looked away, even more unsure as to how to handle this (seeming) rejection. “I’m aware this can lead to awkwardness and unease, so I will pick up my things from the apartment and find another place to-”

He heard Mel approach before he saw her. He turned his head just in time for her to bring a hand to his cheek and lean up on her toes to plant a quick kiss on his lips. “I like you too, dummy.”

If her holding his hands sent him into a tailspin, then what she did damn near broke his brain. Words failed him; he could only stare at her, slightly wide-eyed as his brain repeatedly sent an error message whenever he tried to formulate even a basic thought.

Mel stepped back, looking concerned again. “That was too forward, wasn’t it? I’m sorry, Vergil. I shouldn’t have – I won’t-”

His brain booted back up just in time for the meaning of her words to sink in. Vergil’s logical side, his demonic side, the power hungry drive in him that usually ruled the roost planned on hitting the eject button and rocketing out of this emotional maelstrom. But the oft ignored human side, the affection-starved heart, the hormonal teenage boy in him felt much differently. It wanted more of what Mel had to offer. And for the first time in his life, that part of him _won._

He never kissed anyone before. He was so unsure of how it would go but he flung himself into it with abandon. He ducked his head and pulled Mel close in one (mostly) graceful movement. Self-conscious but willing, he all but crushed his lips against hers, desperately hoping she could provide some guidance here. Or that she might reciprocate at all, really…

She did. He felt her smile as she returned it, more assured and calmer than his own flailing attempt. She was still smiling when he pulled back, eyes searching hers for some kind of judgment. “I wasn’t expecting that,” she murmured.

“I’m not good at this,” he blurted out.

“No one is when they’re starting out.” Mel rested her hands on his shoulder and back, her thumb moving up and down in a soothing gesture. “It takes practice, like everything else. You weren’t always good with Yamato, right?”

He shook his head. He had to learn, once upon a time. And it was strangely reassuring to hear that. This was just another technique, something to learn and master with practice. But like swordsmanship, one can’t really learn to kiss without a partner…

“As it happens,” Mel continued, “I happen to be fairly good at it. Play your cards right and I could give you some lessons.”

Perfect. Vergil smirked, pleased with this turn of events. But as he bent his head for what he assumed would be lesson number two, Mel’s finger snaked its way between them and pressed against his lips. “Uh-uh,” she said. “It’ll cost you.”

He frowned. “I have to pay?”

“Nothing in life is free.” She quickly added, “And I don’t mean with money. I’m not _that_ much of an asshole.”

He sensed she was about to play a little game with him. Curious, Vergil asked, “What’s the going rate for kissing lessons these days?”

“Hmmm.” Mel tapped her finger against her mouth, pondering the question for a moment. “Adjusting for inflation and the cost of living, I’d say… one compliment per kiss.”

“…you want me to pay you in compliments?”

“Specifically, what you _like_ about me.” Mel huffed out a laugh as Vergil scowled. “I’ve told you I liked you. I’ve even told you a bit as to why. But I have no idea why you like me. So, that’s the price: a few brief glances into the inner workings of your mind. In exchange, you get to kiss me.” She grinned wickedly. “I’d call that a steal, if we’re being honest.”

“Inflate your ego so I can kiss you.” Vergil smirked. “It certainly is a steal for one of us.”

“‘If you want to cross the bridge my sweet, you’ve got to pay the toll.’”

There was a considering pause, and then Vergil said, “You’re intelligent.” With a snort, he added, “And apparently rather conniving.”

Mel grinned, her eyes lighting up as she leaned up again and kissed him. Vergil paused a moment, taking cues from her before carefully returning it. He was able to savor it this time around now that the initial rush and heady desperation from earlier had simmered down. But he was surprised when, upon parting, Mel chuckled and gave him another quick peck.

“…was that second one because you think conniving is a compliment?”

“I mean, I think it is, but that was more because you went with something on the inside and not resorting to something about my appearance first.”

“So you’re saying there’s a way to cheat this system.”

“No,” she answered with an overblown scowl. “No more freebies. You get just the one.”

“We’ll see about that.” _Two can play this game, Mel._ He considered his next ‘payment’. “You have good taste in literature and an appreciation for it that I… appreciate.” Nailed it.

As promised, he was given another kiss. And as he had hoped, when she pulled back, she immediately leaned back in for another. “Damn you,” she muttered against his lips.

His hand wound its way up to the back of her head, fingers twisting in her curls as he held her close to stretch out the freebie kiss. He agreed to pay and play this game, but he never said he wouldn’t try to cheat. And he did, and Mel chided him, but he didn’t care. Really, neither did she.

So Vergil cheated more kisses out of her and Mel eventually surrendered and just let him have at it, because it wasn’t like she wasn’t benefitting from it. They were happily wrapped up in each other, and Vergil forgot all about what he came to look for.

* * *

“Everyone, dinner’s ready!”

Vergil blinks. _How long has it been?_ He really zoned out there; he’s surprised no one’s bothered him before now.

Dante strolls past him and towards the dining room, where the boys are already clambering into their seats. Footsteps are audible from upstairs, and moments later, Nico shuffles down the stairs. Kyrie’s beginning to serve the casserole she made to those already at the table. Nero takes a seat and looks up at his father expectantly.

Vergil had gone decades without eating dinner at a table with anyone, let alone family. It’s strange how used to it he’s gotten already. He’s certain he’ll even miss it a little when he and Dante return to Devil May Cry. He gets up and joins everyone at the table, intent to cherish these moments of peace. With the life they lead and all the uncertainty surrounding the outcome of their search for answers about Mel, he doesn’t know how long it’ll last.

The conversation revolves mostly around mundane topics: the work they need to do on the house, how the kids’ school day went, parts needed for the van… He and Dante contribute little to the chatter, mostly content to just eat and listen in. It’s almost funny how droll he would have once found this. But that was before he realized just how much he had missed out on.

Dinner’s suddenly interrupted by three solid, hard knocks on the front door. Before anyone else can volunteer, Nero shoves his chair back with a sigh and heads for the front door. “I got it.”

Vergil leans back in his chair and watches as Nero opens the front door. Though Nero blocks most of the view, he makes out some of the person standing on the other side of the door. He’s a middle-aged man, probably a little older than he is. His posture is ramrod straight, with his hands behind his back in a resting military style. He briefly makes out an annoyed expression before the man moves and is more blocked from view. “Nero,” the visitor says icily.

“Hey.” Nero gestures towards the dining room. “We’re finishing up dinner. Everything-”

“Why did you break into HQ?”

_Ah. And I do believe this is the Captain Henley I keep hearing about._ Vergil sets his fork down, more interested in the conversation now than his dinner.

Nero shakes his head. “Haven’t been anywhere near the place.”

“Someone was rifling through the records room earlier. My men almost caught them, but the culprits _somehow_ managed to slip out without anyone catching them. Not many can pull that off.” Henley probes Nero with his eyes, undoubtedly looking for some hint of a lie.

Nero scoffs. “And you automatically assume it’s me. Never mind that damn near half the town’s tried to break into that place. Real nice, Henley.”

“But none as successfully as you have.”

“And how would you know whether or not I did?”

“Because we know you took reports out of the records room. No one else in town has managed. Like I said, not many can pull that off. And fewer still who have knowledge of HQ’s layout and would have the desire or motive to break in.”

Nero’s fist tightens at his side. Vergil’s not sure how much longer this can go before a punch gets thrown. “You got any proof or not, Henley? If not, stop wasting our time. And maybe instead you should be more focused on how someone slipped by your guys after you supposedly ramped up security.”

Henley bristles at the insinuation. “Normally they would not have, but our invader timed it rather well. Somehow they knew we were dealing with another incident and they chose to break in.”

_So that’s why there were no guards._

“Another incident? What happened?”

“Like you didn’t already know we were-”

“Damn it, Henley!” Nero slams his fist against the doorframe. “I don’t know anything! Seriously, what happened? If someone slipped in that easy, then you barely had anyone around watching the place. If you need help-”

“No!” The word lashes out, loud and almost panicked sounding. Henley sighs before taking a deep breath. “No… I appreciate it, but it’s been handled.” He takes a step back. “This conversation clearly isn’t going anywhere, so I’ll leave you to your dinner. Next time you try and break into the place, you won’t get off so easily.” With a parting warning glare, Henley turns and leaves.

“Tch.” Nero ducks back inside, slamming the door behind him. “What an ass.”

“The hell was that about?” Nico asks as Nero sits back down.

He almost begins to explain, but he looks up and sees the boys staring intently at him. He shakes his head. “Nothing. Just Henley throwing around accusations.”

_We were sloppy._ Vergil resumes eating, but his mind – rather like Nero’s – is focused on what just happened. _If we need to break in again, we need to be more careful. Although if Henley already suspects us, will another break-in be possible?_ Yamato will make the entry easier, but it won’t do anything to deter Henley’s suspicions. _…let’s hope this Nathaniel has something._

Once the boys finish dinner, Nero lets them leave to go play. Kyrie opens her mouth to say something, but Nero shakes his head. He offers no explanation until the boys are gone. “I’ll help clean up, Kyrie. I just didn’t want them around when we talk about the crap that just happened at our door.”

“A second break-in is going to be a lot harder,” Vergil says. From the corner of his eye, he sees Kyrie frown. He quickly adds, “Assuming it’s necessary to do so again. Nothing will be done until after we hear from this Nathaniel. When _is_ he due to arrive back?”

“Any day now,” Kyrie answers.

Nero shakes his head. “Henley might be suspicious of me, but I’m definitely suspicious of him now. He knows something.”

“How do you figure?” Dante asks. “Because of how he all but bit your head off when you offered to help with… whatever happened?”

“Yeah. He’s never been one to pass up my help. And I don’t offer it a lot.” He leans back in his seat, his dinner set aside. “I want to know what he’s hiding. Hopefully Nathaniel will have the answer, but if he doesn’t, I am definitely going back in there.” He shoots Kyrie an apologetic glance. “I’ll be as careful as I can. But if he’s hiding something from me while I’m trying to search for answers about my mom… I can’t let that slide.”

No, they can’t let that slide. Vergil certainly won’t. One way or another, someone in this town is going to provide them the answers. Whether it’ll be the easy way or the hard way remains to be seen.


	12. Uncertainty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kyrie stumbles upon some information that helps Nero plan his next move.

It’s an unusually warm day for March, but Kyrie certainly isn’t going to complain. She takes the opportunity to pick up a few things in town, namely some cleaning products and extra beans for tonight’s dinner. She plans on making chili, though she wonders if she should hold off, what with it being warmer out than normal. _No, I’ll just stick to it. It’s not like we have the money to buy extra food right now, and I’ve already planned out the week’s meals._ Everyone can just deal with it. Not that hardly anyone complains except for the boys, and only when it’s something they don’t particularly like.

Kyrie shoulders her bags and begins her trek home. But as she turns down the main road she normally takes, she finds herself nearly running smack dab into a sea of people. _I guess everyone is out today because of the nice weather._ She excuses herself repeatedly as she tried to step and dodge around everyone. Her efforts are repeatedly hampered, so eventually she gives up and ducks down a side street to go around. “Goodness,” she murmurs in amazement, making quick strides down the unused path. _I suppose I don’t need to rush. Though I do want to have enough time to get everything done. There’s so much around the house that needs-_

“…and it’s … what the captain is...”

Kyrie comes to a dead halt when the unknown voice drifts down her way. She glances around, trying to find the source.

“…right,” a second voice says. “I don’t know why he … all those floors ...”

_Order soldiers? And they sound not too far._ Best she can guess is they’re huddled up in a nearby alleyway somewhere and chatting. She quietly tiptoes further down the street in the direction of the voices. Normally she tries not to eavesdrop, but with everything going on…

“I don’t care what he’s saying. Something ... Miralee said Dawson … scared to death, but he wouldn’t...”

“Isn’t this when we usually ask Nero to step in?”

Kyrie ducks behind some stacked crates as she gets close enough to clearly hear the voices.

“Aye, but Henley is adamant on keeping him out of this. Grapevine says he gave orders that Nero isn’t to be told anything about it. No damn clue why. If it’s that bad, let him handle it. He’s usually happy to go beggin’ Nero for help any other time…”

“It’s so weird, all of this. I don’t like it one bit. Henley’s not usually so dodgy, so I don’t get what-”

Suddenly, a third voice lashes out from further away, “Hey, you two! Quit your gossiping and hop back to it. You’ve got patrols to do!”

“Sorry, lieutenant!” both say. A hurried patter of boots echo down the alley, growing fainter until they’re out of earshot entirely.

Kyrie breathes a sigh of relief as she steps out of hiding (not that it was necessary). But the relief gives away to serious concern. _This must be what Henley meant the other night. But it’s one thing to pretend to Nero he had everything under control, and entirely another to actively make sure he doesn’t know the details._ She puts her hand to her chin in thought. _I need to tell-_

“There you are!”

Poor Kyrie nearly jumps out of her skin in surprise. _Oh God no, did they-_ She whirls around, expecting the Order to have found her out. Instead, she comes face to face with Aubrey. _Thank goodness._ “Oh, Mrs. Satin. Hello.”

“Sorry Kyrie, I didn’t mean to frighten you.” Aubrey beckons her. “I was looking for you or Nero. Guess who’s finally back in town?”

Her eyes widen. “Nathaniel’s finally back?”

“Yessum. He came back yesterday evening, and he should be home now.”

“Finally!” Now maybe Nero can get some answers. Kyrie hurries over and falls in step with Aubrey as both of them brave the crowd to head back into town. “Did you let him know we’re looking for him?”

“I haven’t even seen him yet myself. I just heard through the grapevine. As soon as I did I set out looking for you.”

“I hope Grace doesn’t mind me taking up some of his time.”

“I don’t think this will take overly long, and it’s not like she doesn’t know you want to talk to him.”

Kyrie nods, half-listening to what she’s saying and half-concentrating on trying not to walk too fast as to outpace Aubrey. Her mind’s in a jumble on top of it all, the excitement from this development mixed up with the anxiety from the conversation she overheard. The emotions don’t mix well, so she’s feeling quite off-kilter-

“Kyrie, dear? You hearing me?”

-and apparently not paying attention. Kyrie blinks before shaking her head. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Satin. My head is all over the place right now. What did you say?”

“Mostly just babbling about what I thought he might have that could help.” Aubrey’s smile fades as concern sets in. “What’s on your mind? You looked so frightened back there when I found you, and you seem distracted. Everything all right?”

Kyrie fidgets with the bag handles. Aubrey tends gossip, so she’s afraid if she tells her what she overheard, it might spread. On the other hand, Aubrey’s no fan of the Order. She also has ears everywhere, and she might know something. Kyrie decides to take a gamble and explains, “I overheard a few Order soldiers talking. I didn’t catch much, but they mentioned something happening in HQ that scared someone. Henley’s being very hush-hush about it, and they don’t like how he’s handling it. And worse, he gave orders that no one is to tell Nero about it.” She frowns. “Which would explain why he was acting so strangely the other day.”

“Mmm. This sounds like a pot of trouble brewing. What did he do the other day?”

Glancing around to make sure no one’s within earshot, Kyrie recounts Nero and Henley’s heated conversation two days ago.

“…yup, this is definitely going to be trouble,” Aubrey concludes. “I don’t like the look of any of this. I don’t know how it could be connected, but it seems odd this incident in HQ happens right as Nero starts looking for information about his mother. And with how prickly Henley is being about it, he’s certainly making himself suspicious.”

“Nero’s convinced he knows something about her. I’m afraid he’s going to wind up being right.” That’s not going to end well. Nero barely tolerates the Order as is, and that’s only because the current members had little or nothing to do with the events six years ago. If one of them had something to do with his mother… she doesn’t even want to consider what’ll happen.

“He may very well. But until he gets answers, there’s no point in worrying about what will play out.” Aubrey leads them down another side street that cuts across a packed residential area. “If you bunch ever need help dealing with the Order, let me know. I’ve got a few cards up my sleeve.”

“Thank you. Hopefully it doesn’t come down to that.”

“Time will tell. But ah, we’re almost there.” They turn a corner and emerge onto a row of brightly painted townhouses. Aubrey walks up to one that’s bright blue in color. “Here.” She knocks on the door.

Kyrie walks up next to her, just in time for a man in his mid-forties to open the door. His bushy brows raise in surprise. “Well, hello.”

“Nathaniel, it’s so nice to see you,” Kyrie greets him with a warm smile. “How did fishing go?”

“Not too bad. Got a decent haul in, but I’m glad to be home.” He nods politely to Aubrey. “What can I do you for?”

“Kyrie needs to talk to you about something regarding your mother.”

“What about?”

Kyrie shifts her bags onto her other shoulder before she says, “I don’t know if you’ve heard yet, but Nero’s looking into his mother and what happened to her. We’ve found out a few things, including that she rented from your mother while she was here.”

“Did she?”

“Mmhmm. Actually, she also helped deliver Nero when he was born.”

“Gracie lent us your mother’s old journal,” Aubrey chimes in. “Don’t worry, it was returned safely. Poor Nero doesn’t have an official birth record, so whatever entry your mother made about it was the closest he’d ever get.”

“Oh, wow.” Nathaniel rubs the back of his head sheepishly. “I’m guessing you wanted to see if I had anything else that could help?”

Kyrie nods, but judging by the look on his face, she begins to lower her hopes.

He blows out a breath. “Gosh, I wish I knew off the top of my head. I mean, when she died, we went through all her stuff. There was nothing unusual that we found.”

Her shoulders sag. _I suppose it was rather optimistic to think he might have had something._ “It was worth a try.”

“Tell you what, I’ll take another look. Maybe we missed something. Mother had a _lot_ of stuff, and something could have been overlooked. I’ll even pop back over to the old apartment and see if something wasn’t left behind.”

“No one’s living in there?”

“Not these days. It got wrecked bad in the attack. Not worth the cost to repair.”

_If anything was left behind… what if it got destroyed?_ Kyrie suppresses her despair. No giving up hope until they knew for certain. “I’d really appreciate it. I’ll let Nero know in the meantime.”

“Sorry I couldn’t help more. That was… I guess it would have been twenty-five years ago, right? It’s a long time for something to be buried.”

“Yes, but,” Kyrie lifts her chin up. “that doesn’t mean it’s lost forever.” And Melanie has been buried and forgotten for long enough. They’ll bring her back into the light, no matter what it takes. Even if it means toeing up to the Order and starting a fight.

\--

Sunlight pours in through the open garage door. The warmer weather gives Nico and Nero a chance to get some work done on the van. Vergil and Dante are “helping” in the barest sense of the term, as neither of them are mechanically inclined. Nero had relegated them to switching out tools and handing them over when needed, and occasionally lift or move something particularly heavy if he couldn’t. It’s all mostly just an excuse for them to hang out while getting some needed work done.

“The damn front axle is bent again,” Nero gripes from underneath the van. “Nico, you’ve really gotta watch it when you go flying over potholes and crap.”

“Potholes aren’t gonna fuck up the axle,” she fires back. “Tires maybe, or even the wheels.”

“They totally can,” he says, rolling his eyes as he adjusts his position to get a better look at the axle. “Especially at the speeds you go.”

“Just a suggestion,” Dante chimes in from somewhere out of sight, “but running over demons probably doesn’t help either.”

_…he has a point._ Nero makes a ‘yeah, yeah’ gesture, not that Dante can see it where he’s at. “Either way, we need to watch what the van is hitting or running over. I can’t put off replacing the axle forever and that isn’t cheap.” But for now, he does what he’s been doing: he brute forces the axle into straightening out. It isn’t perfectly straight, but it’ll at least stave off a potential disaster on the road.

“Nero.” Vergil gets to his feet. “Kyrie’s home.”

Nero pushes himself out from the under the van and sits up. Kyrie waves to them as she approaches from the road, bags in hand. “Hi guys. How’s it going?”

“Same old. Nico’s damn driving is dinging up the van,” he complains as he walks over to her.

“Oh shut up,” she snaps.

Ignoring Nico, he bends down and kisses Kyrie on the cheek. “How’d it go?”

“Found what I needed, but along with that…” She sets her bags down. “A couple things happened when I was in town.” There’s a mildly guilty look as she takes Nero’s hand in hers. “There’s good news, questionable news, and bad news. Which would you like to hear first?”

Nero rubs the back of his head. “Geez, what all happened out there? Uh, bad news first, I guess.”

“I don’t know any details, but remember how Henley sort of mentioned something happening at headquarters the other day? Well, it sounds like it might have been worse than he let on. It was something terrifying. And… he doesn’t want you to know what happened. To the point where he ordered them to not tell you anything.”

Somehow, every time Nero thinks that things couldn’t get any more suspicious, Henley manages to prove him wrong. And much like Aubrey wondered earlier, Nero finds the timing of it all very odd. His scowl deepens. “How’d you learn this?”

“Overheard two soldiers talking. They find it all strange, too. One of them said Henley’s been acting odd and they don’t get why he won’t loop you in.”

Something tells him that he’ll need to get to the bottom of it sooner or later. But his mom comes first. “So, what’s the questionable news?”

“I have to tell you the good news first.” Kyrie smiles weakly. “Nathaniel is back. And I already went over and talked to him.”

Normally he’d celebrate that if it weren’t for the questionable news being the only thing left. “And…?”

“He didn’t know anything off the top of his head. But he said he would look through her things again. And he was also going to try searching through the apartment his mother used to rent out. It’s been abandoned since the attack.”

A grim resignation settles on Nero’s face. If Nathaniel can’t provide answers, that only leaves one avenue. “Kyrie, I-”

“I know. You need to break into HQ again.” She sighs. “I won’t be upset, as much as I wish there was another option.”

Vergil moves towards her. “He won’t be going alone. And next time, we won’t have to go through the front door. Or any door at all.”

Dante claps his hands. “Great. So, when are we going?”

Nero and Vergil turn to him at the same time. “What do you mean ‘we’?” Vergil asks. “This is-”

“A big search,” Dante cuts in, “and you’re going to need as many eyes and hands as you can get.”

“Which is why I’m going, too.” Nico tosses her rag on the ground as she turns away from the van. “And don’t even argue with me,” she adds, pointing a finger at Nero and the combative expression he’s wearing. “Dante said it: you need all the help you can get.”

“And Kyrie also had a point: this is dangerous. We don’t know how the Order’s gonna react-”

“I’ll be perfectly safe with you three beefcakes. You can’t mean to tell me you can’t handle the Order.”

When Nero goes to argue more, Vergil cuts him off, “Let her come, Nero. Dante, too. The more eyes that are searching, the quicker we’ll get answers. Henley already suspects us, so we’ll need to be swift.”

There’s a stubborn twinge in Nero’s jaw, but he finds himself outnumbered as his father, uncle and best friend all stare him down. “Fine.” He jabs his finger at Nico. “If shit hits the fan and it comes to a fight, you need to listen to us and not fuckin’ argue, got it?”

“Yeah, yeah.” She waves him off. “When are we gonna do this? Tonight?”

Nero shrugs, looking to his father and uncle. “Probably our best shot.”

“What time are you thinking?” Dante asks.

“…as much as it’s gonna suck, early morning. 2 AM kind of early morning. That’s in the middle of the night watch shift, so they’ll be more tired.”

Nico grimaces. “Remind me to take a nap later. And brew some coffee.”

\--

Nero and Nico chatter throughout the day about their upcoming break-in. They strategize as best they can, discussing what to look for and where. She tries to jog Nero’s memory about what shelves and cabinets store what files, but Nero hadn’t exactly been a file clerk during his time in the Order.

Vergil keeps out of the planning. It’s not that he doesn’t care, but his mind is elsewhere. He cannot help but wonder if he isn’t just wasting everyone’s time. After all, he may already know what happened to Mel. If he could just recall the entire memory, he’d know for certain.

He excuses himself after dinner, claiming he wanted to do some reading to pass the time. But he instead confines himself to the van, rubbing his head as he fights through the fog of memory. The nightmare still haunts him, and every time he tries to recall it, it ends just as he goes to bring his sword down on Mel’s head.

He fights it, again and again, hoping to see just another second past that moment. This may hold the answer to everything. If she had died by his hands, then he doubts the Order would have a record of her fate. And if the record room holds no answers, then he may have no choice but to come clean.

_How am I going to do that?_ Fear claws up his throat, threatening to choke him. The possibility terrifies him. To know that he killed Mel would be damning enough, but to have to tell Nero that, and to ruin everything he’s gained… But he owes Nero the truth, and he owes it to Mel to own up to it, should it be the case. He doesn’t know how he’ll forgive himself for it. He doesn’t know if Nero ever would. But somehow, he must find a way.

_I just want to remember, for better or worse. Knowing would at least get me out of this limbo of indecision._ Try as he might, nothing comes to him. His memory will not go past that moment, no matter how hard he tries.

Vergil grunts in frustration as he leans back into the couch. _I’m going to give myself a headache at this rate._ Ordinarily he might just keep pushing anyway, but he has a long night ahead of him. For now, he surrenders and gives up on this fight. His mind instead wanders back through the past, into memories it _can_ recall.

* * *

Vergil hadn’t been to the library in over two days. He belatedly realized this while he was sitting on a beach, listening to the waves lapping on the shore. Mel sat next to him, chin resting on her arms as she kept her knees tucked up against her chest. Normally she filled the time with chatter, but she was being unusually quiet. It left Vergil with his thoughts, and they now fixated on how little work he had done lately.

_It poured all day yesterday,_ he reminded himself. Neither of them wanted to walk the trek to the ravine in a downpour. _But what about the day before?_ a little voice asks him. It had been a perfectly clear day. He could have gone. He should have gone. Mel even asked him if they were going to go. But he hadn’t wanted to. He only wanted to spend time with Mel. Talking to her, listening to her, being near her… and yes, kissing her. A lot. It had been several days since he made that brave stumble, and he already considered himself decently educated on the matter. Not an expert by any means, but skilled enough.

In fact, he had half a mind to lean down and do so again. But Mel seemed focused on the sea, brow puckered just slightly and eyes intent on something only she could see. Vergil well knew that was her usual expression when she was concentrating hard on something. She might not appreciate that kind of interruption. Instead, he quietly said, “You’ve been strangely quiet.”

“…have I? Sorry.”

Vergil shakes his head. “I was simply pointing it out. I wasn’t expecting an apology.”

“I guess I just… I’m in a pensive mood. You know, like you have those days where the enormity of life weighs down on you?”

“I’m not sure I follow.”

Mel sighs. “I try to live my life day to day, doing what I want and going where I want. I love having that freedom. But sometimes I wonder what I’m doing. Where am I going with this? Where am I going to end up? What lies ahead? I realize that I have so much time left, and yet it doesn’t feel like much at all. And this is the only chance I’m going to get, so what if I screw it up? What if I’m doing the wrong thing and wasting my life?” She tenses, hands curling tighter against her legs and pulling them closer to her. “I’m happy right now, being here with you. I’m learning a lot. But it won’t last forever, right? You have your agenda, and when you find what you want, you’ll leave. And I have places I want to see. I know that was always the assumption, this isn’t news to me, but… I don’t know. I guess I’m just scared and I wish I knew how things would wind up.”

The words sounded so strange coming from Mel, ever confident and sure of herself. Vergil grasped for a response, not knowing how to approach this side of her. “I… never realized you harbored such doubts. You always struck me as having unshakeable faith in your chosen path.”

Mel smiled sadly, her eyes drifting downwards as her foot dug a line back and forth in the sand. “‘Underneath my outside face, there’s a face that none can see. A little less smiley, a little less sure, but a whole lot more like me.’”

“…Silverstein?”

“Mmm.” Mel suddenly laughed and ran a hand through her hair, dislodging her curls. “Sorry, I’m being such a downer right now. It’s stupid worrying about the stuff you can’t predict.”

“Mel-”

“We should get back.” She stood up, forcing her smile in place as she brushed the sand off. “I’m getting kind of hungry.”

“It wasn’t thinly veiled criticism.” For once. “I was just surprised-”

“Uh, Vergil, sorry to cut you off but I’m serious, we need to go.” She pointed to the south. “Look.”

Vergil followed her finger, and he got an eyeful of dark, ominous clouds rolling in from the southern waters. Both of them had been so caught up in their thoughts that they failed to notice the storm approaching. Vergil quickly got to his feet, not bothering to dust himself off. “Let’s go.” Normally he’d use his not-quite-teleport ability, but he wasn’t so cruel as to leave Mel behind in the rain. Not to mention he would never hear the end of it from her. It also would frighten the townspeople, and he wasn’t looking for trouble. That meant resorting to running, and even then not at full speed. Mel wasn’t slow, but she definitely couldn’t keep up with Vergil.

The two ran back towards town, clambering over the sand dunes and hurrying to find the nearest road back to civilization. The wind picked up as they hit the main road. It whipped through the trees that dotted the landscape around the road, adding an ominous cadence to their plight. Mel muttered “crap” repeatedly as they hurried. “Crap” turned to “shit” when large rain drops started pounding the pavement.

“I think we’re about a mile from town!” Mel glanced uneasily up at the sky that was quickly darkening over their heads. “Even if we don’t get back to the apartment, if we at least get within the walls we can duck into some-”

And as if to spite her, the clouds opened up. Mel squealed as the torrential downpour crashed down, drenching both of them in an instant. Vergil cursed, yanking his coat over his head. While his coat could keep the rain off for a time, it wouldn’t last for a mile or so. He whipped his head around, frantically looking for shelter. The nearest contender was a large oak tree about thirty yards off the side of the road. Another quick glance around told him no one else was nearby, so he decided to risk it: he scooped Mel up and dash-stepped towards the tree.

She sputtered and weakly protested the manhandling, but by the time she had the presence of mind to do so they were already under the tree. Vergil set her down and moved them as far back against the tree as possible. The leaves afforded a measure of protection, but hardly enough to keep them dry.

“Remind me next time not to leave the apartment without an umbrella,” Mel ground out between her chattering teeth. She struggled to wring out her hair as her arms shook from the cold.

Vergil more often than not leaned well into asshole territory, but his mother (attempted) to raise a gentleman. He shrugged off his duster and draped it over Mel.

“Wh – Vergil, you’re gonna get soaked then.” Mel lifted open one side and gestured to him. “It’s not exactly spacious since you’re a skinny-minny, but it’ll least cover you somewhat.”

“I don’t think this will work.” But knowing better than to argue, Vergil knelt down on the ground next to her and huddled under his coat. It provided partial cover for them both, primarily by keeping the rain off their heads. “I’m not opposed to-”

“Shush.” Mel elbowed him. “I’d rather get kind of wet with you than get dry while you get drenched. Besides…” Her hair brushed against the bare skin on his arm as she leaned against him. “This is kind of nice.”

To Vergil’s credit, his brain managed not to break when she touched him anymore. It more or less just briefly hiccupped before he leaned into her touch. He told himself it was to get further under the coat and not at all to do with wanting to be closer. “You think being trapped under my coat beneath a tree in a downpour is nice?”

“Well, okay, it’d be nicer if we were inside. But still…” She snuggled closer. “It’s a nice excuse to be close.” Resting her head on his shoulder, she looked up at him from under a mop of wet, now even curlier hair. “What were you going to say earlier, before we realized we were really dumb for not paying attention to the weather?”

Vergil cleared his throat and kept his eyes trained on the rainy landscape in front of them, rather than her probing eyes. “It was nothing important.”

Mel poked him in the side. “C’mon.”

“…fine. I was just going to say that I found it surprising. Worrying about it doesn’t help much, though I believe it’s a fairly common thing for people to do. As much as one might try to live in the present, it’s impossible to not think ahead from time to time.”

“What about you?”

“I’m always thinking ahead. Everything I do is towards my goal.”

“I noticed,” she said dryly. “I meant more if you ever worried about whether or not you’re doing the right thing. And what comes next.”

“…I don’t leave room for doubt.” He constantly pushed forward, forever striving for his goal and refusing to look back. But what he didn’t want to admit was that he didn’t look _that_ far ahead. He didn’t know what would come after he came into the power he so badly wanted. Surely life would just come together after that, or so he assumed. By then he would know.

Mel snorted. “Somehow I’m not surprised. But you need to be okay with questioning yourself, Vergil. Things change. Sometimes the path we first set off on ends up becoming incompatible with the person we become later. And sometimes you realize it was just a damn stupid idea.”

A small part of him knew she was right. Admitting that, though, meant that he would need to actually reexamine his current path. Perhaps, even deeper down, a smaller, quiet part of him also knew that if he did, he would realize he was making a mistake. That this quest for power would solve nothing. That it was an excuse to avoid his trauma. That he would be lost without that purpose, and that alone terrified him. Rather than face it, he sat firmly in denial and stubbornly kept at it. “Persistence is key, and you gain nothing by double-guessing yourself. You said it yourself, there’s no telling what will happen. There’s only one way to find out.”

“God, you’re stubborn.”

_She’s not wrong._ Vergil considered that a good thing, but he wasn’t interested in starting an argument. He learned that where he and Mel differed, it was best to just let sleeping beasts lie. She didn’t push him away for it. And he had gotten too attached.

Thunder rumbled in the distance. Mel sighed, looking mournfully at the sky. “We’re going to be here awhile.”

“I thought you said it was nice.”

Mel shot him a half-hearted glare, one that quickly dissolved into laughter. “I did also say it’d be nicer inside. But it definitely could be worse.” She hooked a finger over the top of his shirt and gently pulled him towards her. “And I just thought of a great way to kill the time.”

“This isn’t going to help keep us dry,” Vergil murmured as he allowed himself to be drawn closer.

“I thought you said you weren’t opposed to getting wet.”

“I said nothing of the sort. You cut me off before I could finish, so you don’t-”

“Oh shut up,” she said, cutting him off yet again, though at least that time she kissed him so he found it far less annoying.

He leaned into her, all too happy to forget her words and the rain and instead get wrapped up in this. It hardly solved the problem, but he wasn’t interested. He didn’t want to dwell on the what-ifs. He liked the here and now, when everything seemed more certain and he had a clear purpose and a somewhat clear plan. Once he had his father’s power, everything would sort itself out. He was certain of that. So stubbornly, naively, wrongly certain.


	13. Down the Rabbit Hole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The more Nero finds (or doesn't find), the more he begins to wonder if this search isn't going to lead to more heartbreak than he's prepared for. Vergil hiding things isn't helping matters.

Vergil hesitated to leave the cool comfort of the shower. It provided the only decent means of relief from the unbearable July weather. Being a half-demon provided some resistance to heat, but it didn’t do shit against oppressive humidity. It relentlessly hung over the island, and it showed no signs of letting up. Living in the shower seemed like a better idea by the minute.

_I’d also turn into a prune,_ he lamented as he shut off the shower. _And Mel would throw me out of here eventually._ He begrudgingly stepped out of the stall and grabbed a towel. Already the heat began to seep into the room. As the heat mixed with the relatively little steam from the shower, the bathroom quickly became a sauna. Vergil quickly shook some water out of his hair, hoping to at least get it from soaked to just wet. He would deal with it when he wasn’t slowly being fried.

After he dried himself off, he hung up his towel and yanked on his pants. He looked around for his shirt, but after a moment he belatedly realized he left it out in the living room. He grabbed the doorknob to duck out and finish getting dressed. Just as he did, he heard a bump, followed by something clanging to the floor. “Whoops,” he heard Mel say. “Sorry, Yamato.”

Vergil cracked open the door and peered out. He watched Mel bend down and pick up his sword, which he assumed she accidentally knocked off from its perch on the coffee table. She held it in outstretched palms, giving it a considering look. She sat down on the couch, laying the sword on her lap. Vergil had half a mind to intervene, but curiosity won out. He watched in silence instead.

“Vergil said you’re a devil arm – weird term – and that means you might be… kind of sentient? Maybe?” She propped her elbow on her knee and leaned her head in her hand. She gently ran her fingers along the sheath with her other hand. “I don’t know how all that works but I wonder… what do you think of all this?” She twirled the cinching cord around her fingers. “Being hauled around, killing demons, having no say in anything… I mean, I guess you probably enjoy the killing.” She turned it over in her hands, falling quiet a moment as she admired it. “You’re a very pretty sword. You deserve to be shown off, you know? I don’t mean like, put on a stand and left to get dull and dusty. But I can’t help but think Vergil just sees you as a tool and not as a fine piece of craftsmanship.”

“I’m perfectly aware that Yamato is an aesthetically well-designed weapon,” Vergil cut in. He opened the door fully and stepped out, flicking off the bathroom light with a careless swipe of his hand. “I’ve been looking at it for over a decade now.”

“Yeah, but it’s easy to stop really noticing after a while. And you’re a very utilitarian kind of guy.”

“Be that as it may, I am able to recognize a, as you put it, ‘pretty sword’.” He stood in front of her, arms crossed. “The real question is, why are you talking to it?”

“Why not? If it has a will, as you’ve said, then it probably has some kind of sentience.” Mel stroked the sheath again with a feather light touch. The gesture made something inside Vergil twist pleasurably. “It probably feels ignored, so I’m talking to it. And being gentle with it, since you man-handle it.”

Vergil rolled his eyes, trying his damnedest to ignore the way her stroking his sword was making him feel. “I do not ‘man-handle’ my sword,” he griped as he turned around to look for his shirt.

“You kind of do,” Mel retorted. “And your shirt is over there.”

Vergil walked to where she pointed. Sure enough, it was on the floor, tossed haphazardly in his rush to get into the shower and find some relief from the heat. He already wished to be back in there; the living room was stuffy as hell, despite every window being open and every fan being on. “I use it to maximum effect. It’s a sword, not a piece of pottery. Delicate handling leads to poor swordsmanship, and that leads to death,” he said as he bent down to pick up his shirt.

“I’m not talking about when you’re fighting. I mean when you’re just holding it and walking around. You wave it around, and I’ve even seen you lean on it like a walking stick. Poor thing.” Mel patted the hilt like one might pat a child’s head in reassurance. “A little bit of gentleness goes a long way.”

Deciding he had enough of her coddling his sword, Vergil held out his hand to summon Yamato to him. He rarely had to do that, as Yamato very rarely left his side, but he figured it would get the point across.

…except that Yamato didn’t come.

Vergil turned and frowned in confusion. Mel was looking at him, brow raised as Yamato stayed in her lap. He held out his hand again, concentrating harder as he summoned Yamato again. He hadn’t focused that hard on calling Yamato since he was a child and still learning how. Yet again, Yamato refused to budge. Vergil’s eyes narrowed as he strode over to Mel.

“Is something supposed to be happening?” she asked.

“It should have come to me. It’s being obstinate.” He plucked the sword from Mel’s lap and gave it a hard look.

“…like sword, like master,” Mel murmured. “And maybe it was enjoying being under a woman’s touch,” she added with a sultry smile. “Something it and its master could use a bit of, I’d say.”

Vergil knew full well that time why pleasurable burned hot below his gut. He tilted his head curiously at her. “Oh? And what would that entail, exactly?”

“I’ll show you.” She hooked her finger around the top of his pants and yanked him forward. “Mm,” she hummed appreciatively as she brushed her nose against his bare skin. “Have I ever mentioned you look _really_ good without a shirt on? In fact, I’m fairly certain you wearing a shirt should be considered a crime, especially in this heat.”

Vergil had a retort in mind, but that immediately evaporated when she pressed a kiss to his abdomen. He was well used to kissing by now, but feeling it someplace so much more sensitive and vulnerable than his lips left his head spinning. The heady feeling amplified when he heard – and felt – her unfastening his pants. “Mel…”

“Just trust me,” she whispered, winking at him before she hooked her fingers around the hem and yanked down, ducking her head to-

A sharp knock on the door rang out, shattering the pleasurably tense silence. “Melanie? Are you in?”

Both teenagers froze in shock. It only lasted a brief moment before Mel sighed and Vergil bit back a curse. “Hi, Sister,” Mel called out. “I’ll be out in a minute. I’m not fully dressed.”

“No rush, dear,” the older woman said from the other side of the door. “If you can just come down and help me carry a few things to my home, I’d appreciate it.”

“Sure thing. One minute.” Mel waited until she heard the retreating footsteps of Sister Oliva before she shot an apologetic look at Vergil. “Sorry, we’ll have to wait.”

Vergil just nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

Mel helped him pull up his pants before getting up and leaving him to finish dressing. She quick pecked him on the cheek, murmuring another apology before she headed for the door.

Once the door closed behind her, Vergil heaved out a frustrated sigh. “Damned woman,” he muttered, half-wishing he could stick a summon sword in Sister Oliva’s head for that interruption. He flopped down on the couch, abandoning his shirt to the ground once again. Mel was right about that; it was too hot to put one on. And if she liked him without a shirt, who was he to deny her?

Speaking of denying…

Vergil looked down at Yamato still in his hand. He hardened his gaze into a glower as he held his cherished weapon out in front of him. “What was that about earlier?” he demanded. Never had Yamato disobeyed him like that. It was unprecedented, and he wanted an answer.

But Yamato, as always, remained silent, leaving Vergil in further frustration.

* * *

It’s taken him twenty-five years, but Vergil thinks he’s finally figured out what happened that day. He looks down at his sword in mild amusement as he waits for Dante, Nero, and Nico to meet him outside before they break into Order HQ again. “You were trying to tell me something back then, weren’t you?” he muses out loud. “Did you like that she was being kind to you? Reveling under a woman’s touch, as she put it?” He chuckles. “I wonder… when you allowed Nero to become your master for a time, how much was it because he’s my son, and how much was it because he’s Mel’s son? Given your obstinance back then, I almost inclined to think it’s the latter.”

Yamato had known something that Vergil hadn’t wanted to admit back then. Something that it had taken him far too long to come to realize, and after it was far too late. “If only I had listened…” Listened to Yamato, listened to his heart, listened to the growing doubts that had nagged him. If he had just opened his ears and his heart and his mind to another possibility, another path, things would have turned out much differently for him.

_And for Mel and Nero, too,_ he thinks with no shortage of guilt.

The backdoor swings open. Nero walks out, followed closely behind by Dante and then Nico. She’s bundled up in a thicker jacket to stave off the chilly March night air. The Sparda boys are, of course, just in their leather dusters.

“Are we all ready?” Nero asks.

Nico yawns.

“…are we all even awake?”

“I’ll be fine. Coffee hasn’t kicked in yet,” she says, rubbing her eyes. “Let’s just go. Sooner we get there and start lookin’, sooner we can find stuff on your mama and learn if Henley’s ass needs whoopin’ or not.”

“It’s looking more and more like a yes,” Nero says as Vergil draws out Yamato to open a portal. “Which is exactly why I need to get in there and look. I’d also _love_ to know what happened in there that Henley doesn’t want me knowing about.”

Dante shakes his head. “Not a man of subtlety, this captain.”

Vergil sliced the air in front of him, ripping open a portal leading them directly to the HQ file room. “If he’s hiding something, we will eventually get it out of him.” He sheathes Yamato. “One way or another.”

\--

The file room greets them as the quartet step out of the portal. The lights snap on after Nero fumbles for the switch, casting the room in a dull, flickering glow. Nico lets out a low whistle at the size of the room. Nero immediately elbows her to keep quiet. “Shh. There are still guards around here.”

“Oh it wasn’t that loud,” she mutters as she rolls her shoulders. “All right. Where did you two already look? Let’s get crackin’.”

Nero points out the cabinets and shelves he and his father already searched. It seemed like a lot in his mind, but as he looks at them and then looks at the rest of the room, he realizes with a sinking stomach that they’ve barely scratched the surface.

“…this is gonna be a long night,” Nico says. “All right. You know what, I’m gonna go down to the other end and just start there. You three knock yourselves out down here or wherever.” She gives them a little tired salute before she shuffles her way down to the far end.

Dante shrugs, pushing back his sleeves as he looks around for a starting place. “Well, I guess I might as well take somewhere in the middle.” Or his closest approximation thereof, which consisted of walking to a spot that’s roughly the halfway point and then turning around a few times before settling on a cabinet.

“Let’s hope we have more luck this time,” Nero says as he yanks open the cabinet he’d let off at last time they were in. “Double the people searching, so we’re bound to find something, right?”

Vergil says nothing. Nero glances over and watches him as he combs through a shelf stuffed full of files and folders. _Something’s up,_ he thinks. His father’s not exactly an enthusiastic man about anything, but there’s something off-putting about how… _muted_ Vergil’s been about this search. He’s been willing, but there’s a certain hesitancy he’s brought to the entire operation that leaves Nero wondering what’s going on with him.

His mind circles back to that nightmare Vergil had. He hasn’t been quite right ever since then. The search for answers keeps Nero busy, but he hasn’t forgotten about it and how Vergil promised he would eventually tell him, when he’s ready. _But when is that going to be?_ He shakes his head and turns back to his work. He needs to focus on this right now. There’ll be time to sit his father’s ass down and have it out again, but this isn’t the place nor time.

Try as he might to concentrate, though, his thoughts keep returning to it. _I don’t get it. What could it have been about that would-_ He suddenly pauses mid-sort as it dawns on him. _It has to be about Mom. Why else would he be so bent up over it?_ Nero tightly grips the side of the cabinet to stop himself from spinning around on his father and demanding answers. It’s only his consideration for Vergil and their situation that stills him.

Dante notices, given how he suddenly says, “How’s it going down there?”

“Fine. Nothing yet,” Nero grounds out as he forces himself to resume his search. _I’m getting real sick of people hiding things about my mom from me. Henley is. Now Dad is. Why? Just fucking tell me. I know this isn’t going to have a happy ending. I know she’s gone. Just let me know so I can get some answers and lay this ghost to rest._

Dante doesn’t let the silence hang long. He lets just a few minutes pass before he pipes back up. “Say, kid…”

“What?”

“This isn’t fun, but I gotta ask. Let’s say we find something that ties the Order to your mom. Worst case scenario kind of thing. What happens next?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, what are you going to do? You share a town with these people.”

He hears what Dante is really asking but not saying out loud: how are you going to cope if these people are responsible for your mother’s death? And Nero doesn’t have an answer. Despite rushing full tilt into this investigation, he hasn’t thought that far ahead. He wants answers, but he hasn’t considered what will happen once he gets them. “I don’t know. A lot will depend on what exactly happened and who was involved.” A lot of the Order’s upper echelon is long gone. The people who likely issued the orders have been dead for six years. That left virtually no one to blame… or to take revenge against. And where would that leave him? Where would he go with the anger? Where would he go with any of it? What would he do? _Worry about it when it comes. I need answers first. Everything else will fall into place later._

“I guess it’s a little early to tell yet.” Dante rubs his eyes. “I just wanted to make sure you knew what you might be in for.”

“Well, if people would stop hiding things from me and give me some answers, I’d have a better idea.” Nero doesn’t bother to hide the bitterness and anger in his tone. It makes Dante raise a brow at him, but Nero says nothing by way of explanation. He’s wasted enough time-

“Son of a _bitch!_ ” The three part-demons snap their head towards the far end of the room, where Nico’s ripping out a hanging folder from a filing cabinet. “Nero! Get down here, I found something. Or a lack of something.”

Nero’s heading down there before she even finishes her sentence. He hears Dante and Vergil follow him, but he pays no mind to them as he approaches Nico. “What is it?”

Nico holds the folder up to him. It’s empty, but the folder is stretched out; there was clearly a lot more in it at some point. She turns it so Nero can see the label tag, written in all caps: Melanie, ID: 598.

“That’s gotta be her file.” Nero takes the folder from Nico and opens it, willing for something to reveal itself in the empty, yawning gap. “But where…” It hits him as his eyes meet Nico’s, and suddenly he understands what her outburst meant. “Henley.”

“He has to have the file,” Nico says as she straightens up. “He knows you’re lookin’ for answers, and he knows you were in here. He got the file out before you could find it.”

The folder collapses and cracks in Nero’s fist as it bunches in barely contained fury. Vergil grabs Nero’s arm before he loses his temper. “Think. If Henley has it, where could he be hiding it?”

Exhaling a steadying breath through his nose, Nero wills himself to calm down so he can think. Hypothetically, there are a great number of places Henley could have hidden the file. It could be anywhere in HQ. But if he had to venture a guess, “Probably in his office here. It’s on the top floor.” It used to be Credo’s office. Henley took over it when Credo died and he became the de facto captain of the Order’s soldiers. It’s never sat well with Nero, and it makes his stomach clench in a mix of anger and guilt that he’s going to go rummaging through what used to be Credo’s space.

“Great, so we have to sneak our way up there.” Dante glances up at the ceiling. “Think you can get us there?”

“Don’t have a choice. Luckily, it’s the graveyard shift and the guards should be pretty tired. And I know a back way.” He used to sneak up to Credo’s office all the time to shoot the shit with him when he was bored and didn’t want to work. He never thought he would ever need to sneak back in there, let alone for something like this. “Follow me.”

He leads them out of the file room and down a side hallway that is rarely patrolled. Nero keeps his steps light as he strains to listen for the sounds of incoming guards. He hears distant conversation, but he’s fairly certain they’re far away enough to get by.

The group ducks and weaves down more hallways and connecting rooms until they reach a stairwell. Nero leads them up the several flights of stairs until they arrive at the top floor. The Sparda men stroll out from the stairwell with barely a hitch in stride. Nico, on the other hand, stumbles out, panting heavily as she motions for them to wait.

“Fuuuuuck,” she whispers as she braces her hands against her knees. She gulps down several swallows of air before she continues, “You beefcakes might be able to go up two dozen flights of stairs without breaking a sweat, but some of us aren’t so jacked.”

Nero smiles ruefully and pats her shoulder. “Sorry, Nico. We’re almost there.”

Nico straightens and nods to him. She follows behind with a grimace as they trudge down the only hall on the top floor. Once upon a time, the long ornate rug that runs the length of the path was well cared for and spotless. Its colors were muted but strong, lending a serious near ominousness to the hallway of the offices of the Order’s highest echelon. But now it’s battered and dirty, worn down from too many feet walking on it and no one taking the time to care for it. The walls show the same lack of care: the paint’s chipped and in desperate need of a new coat.

Nero hasn’t been down this way in years, and a little bubble of anger wells up in him at the state of things. _Credo would have been furious to see this,_ he thinks as he heads towards his old office. Clearly Henley’s ideas of appearance didn’t match Credo’s.

Nero gestures to the others to remain still as he approaches the office door. He presses his ear against the door and listens. It’s unlikely Henley would be here at this hour, but there’s no such thing as being too careful. After a moment of hearing nothing but reassuring silence, Nero quietly opens the door.

The room is eerily still, cloaked in the late night/early morning darkness. It is sparsely decorated, with just a photo on the desk that sits in the middle of the room and two filling cabinets pushed against the right wall. Nero steps inside, flicking on the light. It does little to showcase the room; in fact, it just highlights how spartan and empty it is. Nero briefly wonders if Henley has something against decorating. “It’s gotta be in here somewhere,” he says as he heads further in, making room for the rest of his party to follow.

“This shouldn’t take long.” Nico goes for the nearest cabinet and begins digging. “Thank fuck he’s not a file fiend. Or a pat rack.”

“He’s clearly got a thing for boring, empty spaces,” Dante comments as he takes the other cabinet. “There’s no accounting for taste.”

Nero leaves them to their bantering and focuses on Henley’s desk. He fully expects to find nothing, and to have to wait for Dante or Nico to stumble across the file. Which is why he’s quite surprised when he opens one of the desk drawers and finds a manila folder stamped with ‘Confidential’ on the front. Nero flips it open. What he finds makes his heart leap into his throat.

He’s never seen his father in his younger days. It’s not like Dante had any photos, and Vergil certainly didn’t either. But there’s no doubt that the scowling young man in the photo is teenaged Vergil. So the young woman with the smiling eyes and grinning face standing next to him could only be…

“…that’s her?”

Nero hears more than sees Vergil step next to him. There’s a beat of tense silence before Vergil picks up the picture. His expression remains unreadable, as usual, but Nero thinks he sees it soften for just a moment. “Yes,” he answers quietly. “That’s her.”

His eyes fall back on the photo. He can’t believe he’s looking at his mother. Vergil’s described her to him, but it’s another thing entirely to see her with his own eyes. She stands in such contrast to Vergil’s overly serious and dour demeanor. It’s like the sun peeking around a heavy rain cloud. And now he can see her without the shroud of Vergil’s memory obscuring any long-forgotten details. He never mentioned that she like to wear her hair in a messy bun, or that she had a penchant for wearing plaid. “She looks so happy.”

“She usually was. I never understood how.”

Dante and Nico mosey over to see what’s going on. Dante takes the photo and holds it up to the light. He laughs as he gets a good look at it. “Damn, that takes me back. Look at how dumb and skinny you were.” His smile softens as he adds, “She was a pretty one, I’ll give you that. I don’t know how someone who looks so cheery put up with you.”

Vergil scoffs and plucks the photo from Dante’s grasp. “She put up with me just fine.”

Nero turns back to the file. “Well, it looks like we…” He trails off as he pages through the paperwork… or lack thereof. “This can’t be it.” He pages through it again, hoping he missed something. “It’s… it’s just a couple of photos.”

Vergil frowns and glances over the report himself. His expression hardens as he goes. “They had us under surveillance. I doubt these were the only photographs they took.” His grip on the papers tightens, crinkling the edges and nearly tearing them. “How did I not notice them?”

“I’m sure they didn’t follow you around as Order soldiers,” Dante points out. “But yeah, that can’t be it, right? Where the hell is the rest?”

Nero slams his hand against the desk, yelling in frustration. “Damn him! Every time I think I’m close-”

“He’s got to have the rest somewhere else.” Nico pulls Nero away from the desk before he causes further damage. “Come on. It’s late – or I guess early, and we’re all tired. Let’s get some sleep and figure out where he might be keeping the rest of the files.”

Nero inhales, holds his breath to the count of three, and then exhales. It won’t do to lose his temper here. “Fine.” He snaps up the file folder and hands it to his father. “Let’s go home.”

Vergil puts the photo back in the folder. “Are you certain you want to take this? He’ll know you were in here.”

“I don’t care if he does anymore. Let him know. And hey, I don’t have any photos of my mother. The Order was so _kind_ as to take a few, and as far as I’m concerned, they belong to us.” Nero glances down at the photo again. It might not have given him answers, but it’s more than what he had yesterday. “I want him to sweat. If he’s gonna play this game, then bring it on.”

“Easy, kid,” Dante says, gesturing for him to simmer down. “You’re pissed and you have a right to be-”

“Don’t lecture me about overreacting,” Nero snaps. “I – Dad?”

He happens to glance over at him just then, and in that moment he catches a look on his father’s face that stops him in his tracks. It’s gone as quickly as it came, but it’s enough to worry him. He hasn’t seen that kind of raw emotion since… _The nightmare._

Vergil’s eyes snap up from whatever he had been looking at in the folder. His expression is schooled, to a point of tense calm. He snaps the file shut. “Yes?”

“Was is it?”

“Nothing. I just remembered what we were doing when these photos were taken.” He tucks the folder under his arm before he draws Yamato out. “I can’t recall anyone else having been there with us. I simply find it disconcerting and aggravating.”

“…right.” Nero forgets about his almost argument with Dante as he watches his father open a portal. His gaze would have bore a hole straight through the back of Vergil’s head if it could. He knows this tactic well by now: his father’s shutting him out. Which means he’s lying. Which means that, at some point, Nero needs to go back into that file and try and figure out what made his father nearly panic.

_Maybe the answer doesn’t lie with Henley, after all._ And if that somehow isn’t the case… no, he doesn’t want to consider that. He doesn’t even know what he would do if the Order’s responsible. He doesn’t want to consider any other option. And for just a brief, passing moment of a moment, he almost wishes he never went down this rabbit hole. But he’s in too far to back out now, and he’ll get the answers, no matter the cost.

He just hopes the price isn’t too high.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are moments when I (half-jokingly) wonder if I'm being OOC with Nero because he somehow hasn't punched anyone yet. But we're just about past the midway point so there is plenty of time left.


	14. A Night to Remember

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the gang prepares for a third break-in, Nero's patience begins to fray. Vergil, facing down what could be another fight with his son, slips out and visits the apartment he and Mel once shared. He reminisces on one very important night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update, everyone. This chapter was not the easiest for me to write, and mental health issues compounded things. I think I'm back up to speed, though, so hopefully the next one will be in two weeks as usual.
> 
> If the summary didn't give it away, this is That Chapter, so NSFW/smut warning ahoy.

It’s almost 10 AM before Nero finally rouses from sleep, hours after he’s normally up. Exhaustion still lingers in his mind, but he needs to get up. There’s too much to do. With a pained groan he pushes himself up from the bed. As he rises, he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror and almost does a double take. His hair sticks out in disheveled tufts, and dark circles have started forming under bloodshot eyes. “You look like shit,” he mutters to himself as he attempts to flatten his hair. His efforts manage to make it stick out more sideways than upwards. “Whatever,” he finally mutters in defeat, too tired to care about his appearance.

He hears chatter from downstairs, and when he makes his way down the steps, he finds most of the household in the dining room. His family members look as tired as he does, and Nico’s got her head on the table, nursing a cup of coffee in her hands. Kyrie smiles sympathetically and pours him a cup of coffee. “Morning. I brewed a strong pot of coffee for you guys.”

“Thanks.” Nero takes the cup, grabbing the sugar and dumping a copious amount in before adding a few dashes of milk. “Sorry I slept so late.”

“Don’t be. You guys must have come in late. Or very early. I got filled in on what happened.” She sips from her own cup of coffee, considering her next words. Nero drinks from his as well, willing the caffeine to kick in faster. Just as he takes a seat at the table in an effort to preserve his scant energy reserve, Kyrie adds, “I know it must be getting frustrating.”

“Frustrating is putting it lightly. I’m starting to get pissed off.” Nero hardly went into this expecting the answers to fall into his lap. But the number of obstacles being deliberately put in his path boggle him. He doesn’t get it. He isn’t necessarily out to make someone pay for his mother being dead. If the Order was responsible, then the order would have come from Sanctus and the captain at the time. They’re years dead now. It isn’t a witch hunt, it’s just a hunt for answers. So either Henley is being a paranoid bastard… or there’s something going on Nero isn’t seeing.

“We’re inching our way there,” Dante says. “We got confirmation the Order was spying on her. We just gotta find the rest of the file, which Henley definitely has.”

“Yeah, but where?” Nero rubs his face. “We practically tore apart his office, and I doubt he’d put it back in the file room.”

“God I hope not,” Nico mutters, her face still pressed to the table. “I don’t ever wanna see that place again.”

Sitting next to Nero, Vergil makes a considering noise. He hasn’t spoken until now, more focused on the coffee in his hand than the conversation. “What are our options? I don’t know if combing through Order HQ is feasible.”

“But where else is there to look?”

Suddenly Kyrie gasps. “Oh, of course!” She spins towards Nero, nearly spilling her coffee. “I should have thought of it before. Nero, Henley has a home office. I saw it when I was talking to him and Scarlet about adopting Carlo last month.”

“…why the hell does he need a home office?”

“No idea. Scarlet called it his ‘den,’ but it looked like an office to me. It had a desk and a lot of papers stacked. I think there was even a safe in there.”

Dante laughs weakly. “Oh great. We’re moving from B&E-ing into a dying cult’s stone bastion to raiding someone’s house.”

Nero curses under his breath. It’s one thing to break into Order HQ. It’s entirely another to break into someone’s home. If it was just Henley, Nero would be less leery. “I don’t want to freak out Scarlet and Carlo.”

“I could draw them out,” Kyrie suggests. “I’ve been wanting to see Carlo. I might bring the boys along and go out into town somewhere. That’d give you a few hours.”

“But what of Henley?” Vergil asks. “Assuming your outing with his wife is during the day, he would likely be working. Yet if he were to walk in… that’s a big risk.”

“And he knows we were in his office.” Nero hasn’t heard anything from Henley, but he’s sure it’s only a matter of time. “He might double down and stay near his house. Or move the file.”

“So we need to distract him, too.” Vergil sighs. “How?”

Kyrie points her finger. “Actually, I know someone who can help with that.” She sets her coffee down and beelines for the house phone. “Let me call and see if she can stop over.”

\--

It takes a few hours, but soon enough, someone’s knocking on the door. Kyrie answers it, and she smiles widely when she sees Aubrey. “Hi, Mrs. Satin. Thanks for stopping by on such short notice.”

“Don’t mention it, dear. I know you wouldn’t call me over if you didn’t need me for something important. You’re smart enough to know not to waste someone’s time.” Aubrey grumbles as she’s let in. “Unlike some other self-entitled showboats in town.”

As she shuffles into the living room, setting down her bag, Nero gets up from the couch to greet her. “Thanks for coming. We’ll try not to keep you.”

“Oh please, I don’t mind. I have to meet with Henley soon and Savior knows I’d rather stick a needle in my eye.” She rolls her eyes. “He’s been a real _peach_ lately.”

“Actually, he’s why you’re here.” Kyrie clasps her hands in front of her, the perfect picture of sincerity. Nero knows she does that when she’s about to try and sell someone on an idea or needs to ask them a rather big favor. In this case, it’s a little bit of both. “Remember the other day when we went to Nathaniel’s house? And you said to come to you if we needed help with the Order?”

“I did, and that offer still stands.” Aubrey raises her brow. “Sounds like you’re going to take me up on that. What’s going on?”

Nero blows out a breath. It’s a tightrope he’s walking here. Aubrey’s an ally, but she’s on the city council. Nero doesn’t exactly want to admit he’s broken into Order HQ, nor does he want to tell her he wants to break into Henley’s house. But he doesn’t know if he can tell her much without admitting to it. “Long story short, we learned that the Order had a file on my mother. Henley has it. I need to find it. It would, uh, help if he were busy for an hour or two.”

Aubrey’s brow goes even higher. Her eyes dart back and forth between the couple. Kyrie forcibly brightens her smile, and Nero fights to keep his expression composed. Aubrey has the piercing gaze of a mother; it reminds Nero of his days in the orphanage, when the caretakers would scrutinize him after he got into a scrape with the other kids. He nearly squirms.

“Hmm.” Aubrey taps her finger against her lips. “That file probably has the answers you need, so it’s worth getting. Now that I’m thinking on it, we _have_ gotten a few complaints about the smell from the Order barracks in town. It’s mostly just whining, buuuut I could maybe stretch the truth a bit and make it seem a bigger deal. Something like that would warrant an inspection from the council. One of us would need to be there, along with an inspector. And since Henley heads the Order, he’d need to be there as well.” She smiles wickedly. “It’ll occupy him for a few hours, especially after all the questioning, inspecting, and paperwork is done.”

“Sounds like the perfect distraction.” Nero remembers how much city-mandated inspections drove Credo up the wall, and he ran a tight ship. He would almost feel sorry for Henley, if he weren’t being such a colossal douchecanoe. “When can you do it?”

“I’m pretty sure I can make it happen tomorrow, but no promises. I’d have to talk to the inspector and then let Henley know, assuming I can get them both to agree to it. I’ll call you when I know for sure.”

“Thank you so much,” Kyrie says. “Really. I know you say it’s nothing, but you’ve done so much to help us with this, and for virtually nothing in return.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say entirely nothing.” Aubrey chuckles as she picks up her bag. “Remember I told you I have a meeting with Henley? Well, if I can get the inspector on board, I’ll get to tell him he’s got a mandatory inspection coming up. He hates them and it’ll absolutely ruin his day.” She beams. “And now I’m suddenly looking forward to the meeting.”

\--

It feels like Nero is just waiting half the time. Waiting for answers, waiting for people to talk, waiting on a call… wait, wait, wait. He bristles as he looks at the clock again, noting it’s now almost five in the evening and they still haven’t heard from Aubrey. Everyone expects him to be patient, and he has been, but how long is long enough?

Besides, _he’s_ waited for over two decades for answers about his family. His mother’s been buried and forgotten all that time. Haven’t they both waited long enough? All he wants to do is learn the truth and lay her to rest. A son should be able to do that much for his mother.

He wonders if he’s being too nice about this. Too nice, too patient, too forgiving. He keeps the peace for Kyrie and the kids’ sakes. He gives his father space so he doesn’t drive him away. But what about him? What about what he needs? Isn’t that important, too?

_Maybe I should just confront Henley and have at it until he tells me. He’s hiding things, and he knows I know. He has to, right? And he knows he doesn’t stand a chance against me._ The thought tempts him. It’d be the quickest and most direct way. There’d be consequences, but Nero’s ready to say to hell with them. He can deal with them. And Kyrie might get upset, but he’ll deal with that, too. He’s about had enough.

From the corner of his eye, he sees his father move through the kitchen. _And then there’s him._ He’s about ready to lay the beatdown on him, too, though _that_ would not be as easy as dealing with Henley. Not that he wants to fight with his father a second time, but it seems to be the only way his old man opens up. Something in the pictures they found disturbed him and have made him clam up; he’s barely spoken all day. But Nero can’t fathom what. _Nothing_ in those pictures seemed off. _So what is it? What did he see?_

He eyes the folder on the dining table. He’ll go through it tonight when his father isn’t around. It might not yield much, but he hopes he’ll catch something he might have missed. But that might be easier said than done. Vergil hasn’t let the folder out of his sight all day. It might just be coincidence, but Nero wonders if Vergil is guarding the thing.

The phone rings. Nero nearly jumps. He holds his face in his hands, cursing himself for getting so wrapped up in his thoughts. Kyrie picks up the phone. “Hello, Devil May Cry.”

Nero watches her, and when her face brightens up, he feels his heart beat a little faster. Not just because it’s who he thinks it is. It’s just hard for him not to be happy when she looks so happy. And ordinarily he might not think much of it, but with his thoughts taking a darker turn, it provides some desperately needed light.

“Thanks for calling, Mrs. Satin. Did you-” Kyrie pauses, then nods. “That’s great. So, the inspection is for two tomorrow?” She listens, eyes meeting Nero’s to see if he’s listening. “That should work. Thanks so much again. Good luck with the inspection tomorrow.” They exchange a few pleasantries before Kyrie hangs up.

“Do you think you can get Scarlet and Carlo out tomorrow at that time?” Nero asks.

“I think so. I’ll give her a call and sweet talk her into it.” Kyrie quickly punches in the number. “I don’t think she’ll say no, especially if I promise to buy lunch at her favorite bistro.”

Leaving Kyrie to perform some gentle manipulation, Nero sets off in search of his father. Not that it’s a long search, since it’s not a huge house. It takes a whopping ten seconds to find him outside, sitting rather contemplatively in a patio chair.

Nero pushes open the back door and leans against it. “Hey. Looks like B&E round three is happening at two tomorrow, assuming Kyrie can get Scarlet and Carlo out of the house.”

Vergil nods.

Nero waits a beat, then two, for an answer or something a little more tangible than a nod. But that’s all he gets. Blowing a sigh through his nose, he steps out fully onto the back porch, letting the door swing shut behind him. “What aren’t you saying? And don’t,” he tacks on with a glare when he sees his father frown at him. “I know you are, so cut the crap.”

There’s a stare off between father and son. The elder frowns deeply, while the younger crosses his arms and waits. The ball is in Vergil’s court. Nero waits to see how he decides to hit the ball back: tactfully or angrily.

Finally Vergil sighs. “Nero… we’re counting very heavily on this file having the answers.”

“Well, yeah. It should.”

“It may very well. I hope it does. But there’s a chance it might not. For all we know, something happened to your mother before the Order had a chance to do anything.”

Nero says nothing, simply waiting for his father to make his point.

“You need to be prepared for disappointment. It might not be likely, but it could happen. You… what’s the saying? Don’t put your eggs in one place?”

“Don’t put all your eggs in one basket.”

“Yes, that. And if we don’t find the answers there, do you know what your next move will be?”

An angry, frustrated yell bursts from Nero. He didn’t even mean to do it, but his frustration’s boiling over. “No, I don’t know. I don’t know because people keep hiding shit from me and making it fucking impossible! I’m putting ‘all my eggs’ in this one basket because it’s the only damn basket I see! If that file has nothing then I’m…” He shakes his head. He doesn’t want to consider that. He doesn’t want to think about where to go from here, because he keeps hitting dead ends. He’s going to lose his shit, he’s certain, if this turns out to be another one. “C’mon, there has to be something. Why would Henley go to all this trouble to hide it?”

“That’s true. And there’s certainly something in there he doesn’t want you to see. But it might not be _everything.”_ Vergil gets up from his chair. “My intention wasn’t to start a fight. I just – you need to be ready for anything, Nero. If the file doesn’t have answers, or even if the file does. We’re going down a rabbit hole, and what we find might more than we expected.”

His father is hinting at something. Maybe he’s trying to tell him something, asking him to read between the lines. Nero narrows his eyes. “What are you saying?”

But if he is hinting at something else, Vergil isn’t willing to say it out right. He simply shakes his head. “I’m saying just that. Be prepared. That’s all.” He begins walking. However, instead of heading towards the back door, he walks into the yard, heading away from the house.

“Where are you going?”

Vergil pauses, glancing over his shoulder. “There’s someplace I’ve been meaning to visit. I want to see it while I have the chance.”

“That doesn’t-”

“I’ll try to be back by dinner.” Vergil turns and keeps walking, determined to leave his son in the dark.

Nero watches as his father disappears. As his father’s silhouette disappears, he yells again and slams his fist against the back wall. He closes his eyes and counts backwards from ten; he doesn’t want to go back in while he’s this riled up. But it’s a hard battle. He’s once again being shut out from answers. By his own father, no less. Not that that’s new, but he’s getting _real_ sick of it.

_I am definitely being too nice about this._ Nero grits his teeth and ducks back inside the house. He passes by the dining table, with what little of the file of his mother they have. He pauses. _And I definitely need to look through that._ The smell of boiling pasta catches his attention. He glances over and sees Kyrie diligently preparing dinner. _But it can wait until tonight._ She’s done so much for him, especially these last few weeks. The least he can do is prioritize her for a little while.

\--

Vergil sighs in relief as he comes out onto the street, now out of sight of Nero’s home. He knows avoiding him will lead to trouble again, but he can’t risk it right now. He needs space. He needs to get away from searching eyes and collect his thoughts. Though he hadn’t been lying; there _is_ a place he’s been meaning to visit. He originally thought that he wouldn’t be able to, until Kyrie mentioned a few days ago that the apartment Mel rented was abandoned.

Given how long it’s been, Vergil isn’t confident how quickly he will find it. Many landmarks are the same, but his lack of familiarity with the city sends him wandering aimlessly. He normally detests getting lost, but it affords him a chance to think in peace.

_I will have to tell Nero about my nightmare, sooner rather than later._ He isn’t sure his lie convinced his son, and if he digs around in that folder enough, he will find what Vergil stumbled upon: a note from the Order, detailing that they saw a ‘strange, armored demon’ in the vicinity of town on the morning of March 22nd. It included a rough sketch. Nero’s never seen him as Nelo Angelo, but he’s seen the Angelo knights. He’ll put two and two together.

Vergil wants so badly to remember. He tries every night, pushing against the walls of his memory. But nothing works. It’s as if that part of the memory has been permanently erased. He hadn’t wanted to tell Nero anything before he could remember, but he’s starting to believe that may never happen.

_Let’s get our hands on the rest of the file. If that doesn’t hold the answers, then I will tell him. If the Order has nothing about her fate, then it stands to reason that she met her end at my hands._ He nods to himself, satisfied with his idea.

He finds himself standing in front of a small office building. Unremarkable in its appearance, save for the large wooden sign that hangs off the side of the building. The lettering is an almost a faded pink, but Vergil remembers it when it was bright red. He saw it every day when he looked out the living room window.

He turns around. Down a familiar street is the two-story building he lived in for nearly four months. It is certainly abandoned; a small section of the building lies collapsed, and Vergil counts no fewer than three holes in the roof. Vergil feels a pang of emotion he can’t quite place as he takes in its sorry state.

With a bracing breath, he heads down the street towards the building. As he approaches, the extent of the damage becomes clearer. Most of the windows are cracked, with a few completely shattered. The paint on the corners is chipped, exposing the worn bricks underneath. Scattered around are dislodged bricks and roof tiles. The broken pieces litter the ground, crunching beneath Vergil’s feet as he approaches what’s left of the front door.

He pushes against it, and the door nearly comes off its hinges. Vergil barely balances himself in time to prevent falling face first. Not that there’s anyone around to see, but it’d still be embarrassing. As he walks inside, the smell of dust and mold greets him like an unwanted house guest. He scrunches his nose. _This place is really falling apart. I’m sure it’ll be demolished someday._ All the more reason why he needs to be here now.

The staircase remains intact, though Vergil steps with considerable care. As he reaches the fourth step from the top, an alarming crack rings out from under his foot. He hurriedly leaps up the last few steps. _I should have just done that from the start._

Now he’s left facing the apartment door, and his heart quickens. Time and time again he’s gone down memory lane, reliving that spring and early summer. He went through that door countless times, but seeing it now, it sinks in that he’s really here, back again after twenty-five years. But it won’t be the same; Mel won’t be on the other side of that door. Just an abandoned apartment and a host of memories.

_Don’t lose your nerve now. Go in._ He closes his eyes, counting back from five before he grabs the doorknob and pushes it open.

Dust kicks up as the door swings wide. Vergil stands in the threshold a moment, taking it all in. Much of the furniture he remembers is gone. Twenty-five years is a long time to hold onto that stuff. But a few mementos of the past remain: the old coffee table is still there, more battered than ever, and he recognizes the china cabinet that hugs the far wall. Unfortunately, water damage has destroyed it. It’s a wonder it’s even still standing. He shakes his head as he steps in.

The kitchen has different appliances, now rusting from exposure. But the layout remains the same. He remembers those old laminate countertops, now scratched and cracked from neglect. In the fading light, it looks much like it did around dinner time. He approaches the counter, and a dozen different memories float up. All the times he stood there, making dinner while Mel watched, peppering him with questions. He can almost hear her now.

His eyes drift to the doors on the opposite end of the room. One of them is the bathroom. If he accurately could tell where the holes in the roof are, one of them is over the bathroom. _Probably don’t want to step in there._ Then there’s the other door, which leads to the sole bedroom. It’s the room he was in the least, but it remains one of the most memorable. He chuckles to himself as he crosses the room and opens the door.

The bedroom remains in somewhat better shape than the rest of the apartment. Vergil’s surprised to find the same bed frame: dark wood with a sturdy, utilitarian headboard. The desk is the same, too. It’s there, standing in that room that looks much more familiar, that he lets his mind drift back to a particular memory. He only entered this bedroom once, one very warm, early July night. And it’s this memory, for many, many reasons, he remembers the most clearly.

* * *

It was almost nine o’ clock at night, and Vergil was certain he was going to explode.

Ever since Mel nearly introduced him to the wonder that was a blowjob, Vergil battled against the urge to pick up where they left off… and then some. When Mel had returned from her errand with the landlady, she’d been in a foul mood. A simple task wound up taking a few hours; she ranted to Vergil about it, venting her anger over Oliva’s slow understanding of basic technology. Needless to say, she wasn’t in the mood to finish what she started. Vergil knew better than to push it.

But it hardly helped matters. The truth was, while he still enjoyed kissing her, lately that didn’t sate him. If anything, it threw fuel on the fire. His hands itched to roam over her body, to run over bare skin and touch the parts of her he longed to see. He wanted to kiss more than just her lips. He wanted to continue where they left off and see where it would take them. In short, he was a very horny teenager.

He hated it.

_And I thought my wanting to kiss her was distracting,_ he lamented as he lay stretched out on the couch, wearing nothing but his briefs. _What a naïve fool I was._ This was far worse. This was an all-consuming itch he could not scratch, and he most certainly _tried_ to handle it alone. The heat provided one good thing: an excuse to take more frequent than normal showers. He took care of his issue in there. But while it would bring temporary relief, it never solved the problem for long.

He glared at the ceiling. Over the last two days he barely got any work done. Reading couldn’t keep his attention for long. His mind would wander. Too often he started imagining picking Mel up and stretching her out on the table as he undressed her, piece by piece-

And now he was picturing just that. He silently cursed himself, wishing he could scream into a pillow. But Mel would hear. _This isn’t going away. And if the battle over kissing her is any indication, it’s only going to get worse._ He sighed heavily, rubbing a hand over his face. _…I should just – I don’t know. Ask? That seems so awkward. Even if she agreed, that leaves actually… doing it. I have no experience here. And I’d be…_ The word eluded him. He couldn’t quite pin down what it was, not until he finally admitted that he was avoiding indulging in his desires because he was nervous.

_Vulnerable. I’d be vulnerable._

The minutes ticked by. Vergil kept staring at the ceiling as his mind roiled in turmoil. All this desire, this want – need, even – felt like a major weakness. To indulge in that yearning would be to give her a great deal of power over him. She already chipped away at some of the walls around his heart; should he really be giving her more leverage? More ways to worm her way in and wreak havoc?

_But she wouldn’t do that._ Mel never hurt him. And she had plenty of chances to. Despite all his reservations, and against his naturally guarded nature, he trusted her. He trusted her with being under the same roof as him. He trusted her with some of his thoughts and beliefs. He trusted her to help him, the few (many, really) times he needed it. Ultimately, it came down to one simple question: did he trust her enough to do this?

The answer came easily, almost too easily: _yes._

Vergil glanced at the microwave clock. It was quarter to ten. He then looked over at the bedroom door. Light still shone from under the door. Mel was still awake. She would be sleeping soon, though.

He inhaled, held his breath for a few seconds, and then exhaled slowly. _Fine. One night. I will give myself one night. To get this out of my system so I can focus on what I need to do._ That was hardly the only reason, but he still didn’t want to entirely admit to the rest.

He stood up and began walking towards her room. He paused when he realized he was only in his underwear. Admittedly, that would speed things up, but it still felt wrong to go up to a girl in nothing but boxer briefs. He wasn’t so boorish. That led to him rummaging around until he found a pair of sweatpants that he hastily put on. His legs didn’t appreciate the additional heat, but he told himself that (hopefully) they wouldn’t be on for long.

A little more decent now, he approached her door. Faced with the imminent conversation, and whatever was to follow, Vergil realized he still had no idea what to say. _I should have thought it over._ But it was too late now. Mel would tuck in for the night, and he wasn’t going to rouse her from sleep over this. _I’ll just wing it._ Hopefully he wouldn’t sound like a total idiot.

He raised his closed hand. He hesitated as it hovered in front of the door. _Don’t be a coward._ He sucked in a breath… then he knocked three times in quick succession.

“Vergil? Everything all right?”

_Define ‘all right’._ “I’m – can I come in?”

“Sure. Door’s open.”

He grabbed the handle and twisted it, opening the door enough to peer in. Mel was at the desk, shoving away a book of some sort. She turned around and offered a smile. “What’s up?”

He pushed open the door so he could fully step inside the room. It was his first time inside, he belatedly realized. The walls were covered in an old, outdated floral pattern. A full-sized bed was against the far wall, also covered with an old timey floral pattern. It was sparsely decorated; aside from a generic landscape picture on the wall, everything else in the room that gave it any character belonged to Mel. Her duffle bag was sprawled out on the floor, its contents spread out: mostly her clothes, shoes, and a few maps, assumedly from places she’d already been.

“Vergil?”

_Stop stalling._ He gave her a very pointed stare as he closed the door behind him. “…we didn’t finish what we started the other day.”

Mel raised her brow. “No, I suppose we didn’t.” She leaned forward in her seat. “You’ll have to get a little closer for that.”

Tempting, but it wasn’t quite what he wanted. He stepped closer, reaching out his hand to her. The gesture was met with surprise. “…oh.” She took his hand after a moment’s hesitation, letting him pull her up. “Are you… sure? I don’t – I’m not expecting that you-”

Vergil didn’t want to talk about it. Too many feelings and fears threatened to boil over. Words were hardly needed anyway: if she knew what he wanted, and if she didn’t object, then there was little more to say. He shook his head before swooping down to kiss her, pulling her in close. Actions would speak for him.

Mel made a startled noise against his lips, but she quickly composed herself to return the gesture. She met his hurried movements and hastiness with gentleness and humor. He felt a smile before she leaned back and said, “You’re going to be horribly impatient about this, aren’t you?”

“Is that such a bad thing?”

“Not inherently, but,” She brushed some loose strands of hair back from his face. “it’s your first time. Take it slow. Enjoy it. And if you say please, I’ll even teach you a thing or two.”

Vergil narrowed his eyes. “Are you going to make me pay for lessons here, too?”

“No.” Mel’s smile turned sly. “If you listen to me, I’ll be getting something out of it then. That’ll be payment enough.”

“Tch. There’s always an angle with you.”

“So? We’re both benefitting from it, aren’t we?” Hooking a finger around the top of his pants, she led them back towards the bed. “You have no room to complain.”

Vergil stared at her, not saying a word. It was solely to stretch the silence on, just long enough to be uncomfortable. Right when Mel’s face fell, he yanked her close, making her lose her footing. With a solid _thud_ she landed on the bed, with Vergil following her. He was met with a half-hearted glare from her, which he answered with a smirk. “I can complain to my heart’s content. But…” Bracing himself on his elbows, he leaned in close, his face just inches from hers. “I suppose we can do this your way.”

There was a smile, then a giggle before Mel wrapped her arms around his neck and closed the gap between them. It struck him in that moment, as they kissed and nipped and ran fingers along bare skin, how much he liked her laughter. How much he liked her smiles. How much he liked her voice, her eyes, her touches. Even more so, how much he liked her humor, her patience, and her kindness. In fact, there was very little about her he didn’t like. The enormity of those feelings flooded him, and it made itself known in his movements. His kisses edged towards desperate as his fingers shoved and pulled at her clothes, itching for them to go.

“What happened to taking it slow?” she murmured against his ear.

“I’ll savor it once they’re gone.” He shoved her sleep shirt up, bunching it up and into her hands. “Off.” He turned his eyes to her underwear; he didn’t know if she normally wore pants to bed or not, but with how hot it was, it didn’t surprise him to see her foregoing them.

Mel chuckled. “Fine.” She reached down and yanked up her shirt.

While she worked on removing it, Vergil focused on her bottom half. A sense of looking at the forbidden settled over him as he looked down at her blue, no frills underwear. He hesitated, and he came close to backing off and slowing things down as Mel suggested. But his eagerness won out. He took hold of the fabric and, without looking up at her, jerked it off and down to her knees in one fluid movement. He pushed them down, letting her shift her legs to kick them off while he leaned back and took a good look at her.

His mouth went dry at the sight of her. His head spun, teetering back and forth between being overwhelmingly turned on and horribly nervous. It was one thing to see a naked woman in a magazine or on a screen (yes, he had seen porn before, call it curiosity); it was entirely another to see one in the flesh. In the very naked, very lovely flesh. “He was right,” he finally managed after a drawn-out moment of gawking.

“Hm?”

“‘The nakedness of woman is a work of God.’”

Mel threw her head back and laughed, delighted and vibrant, as it rang off the walls. “Oh my God, I should have known you would quote that.”

Vergil’s face reddened slightly at the laughter. “I would think that a compliment,” he groused as he shifted backwards, lowering his face to her body.

“Oh, it is. But it’s just so… _you._ You adorable dork.”

He was absolutely certain that was the first time anyone called him that. “I am not,” he retorted before he gently nipped the skin just below her belly button. “Now, you mentioned teaching me a thing or two.” He trailed his mouth lower and lower. “I suspect it involves this… general area.”

He heard Mel’s breath hitch as his lips skimmed over sensitive skin. “You’d be correct.”

“Well then.” He lifted his gaze, eyes locked on hers as his nose brushed across hair. “You best start instructing.” Though luckily for Mel, he had at least a rough idea of what it entailed. He let his fingers trail ahead, sliding past folded skin. “Ah yes, right.” He smirked. “Please,” he added, just before he slipped them into her.

She gasped and bucked her hips, drawing him in deeper. “You know, would you believe you’re already off to a cracking start?”

He nearly retorted with some smart-ass remark, but he chose instead to focus on her and this “lesson”. Most of Mel’s instructions weren’t given with words. Instead, he listened to the sounds she made and the way she moved. Anything that signaled discomfort or disinterest he backed off from; anything that made her gasp and squirm, he pressed. And he found that, adding to the long list of things he already liked about her, he particularly enjoyed those little noises of hers. They stroked his ego, emboldening him as he kissed and fingered and sucked, greedily drawing more gasps and moans out of her until she finally jerked against him, back arched and fingers digging into his hair as she came with a single, punctuated, “ _Fuck._ ”

As she fell back against the bed, Vergil was already standing up and quickly divesting himself of his clothes. “That was a very informative lesson,” he said as he kicked his pants and briefs off, leaving them next to Mel’s clothes. For all that it had been educational and admittedly rather enjoyable, it only fed into his impatience and desire. He crawled over her until they were aligned. He had no interest in drawing this out any longer.

Mel shifted, allowing him to fit against her more comfortably as she wrapped her legs around him. Her arms drew him in closer, wrapping around his back and shoulders. Their foreheads touched, and their breaths intermingled. An uncharacteristic urge of affection overtook Vergil; he brushed his nose against hers and offered a smile. Mel, who had never seen him actually _smile_ before now, looked on in wonder before she returned it with a bright smile of her own. Vergil gave her a brief kiss, giving the moment a chance to just be. His impatience quickly reared its head, however, and he pulled back from her. He waited a beat, just to make sure she wasn’t about to change her mind.

She arched her hips, pressing up against him. His breath hitched. It seemed he wasn’t the only one eager now. Taking the hint, he braced his arms on either side of her head as he lined himself up. With a bracing breath, he pushed himself inside her.

…and _very_ nearly embarrassed himself.

He hissed out a breath, burying his face into the side of her neck as he fought back the release his body craved. From somewhere in the depths of his memory, the term ‘one pump chump’ floated up. Pride demanded that he do better than that. Mel was too kind to judge him, but he still refused to give such a weak performance. He was a son of Sparda for crying out loud. If he could tear through a horde of demons without breaking a sweat, he could certainly last longer than five seconds in bed.

Once he got himself under control, he relaxed and began to move his hips. Instinct took over. As much as he wanted to sink into it and let it take complete control, he couldn’t. Not yet. He wanted it to last as long as he could manage. Part of it was pride, but part of it was also heeding Mel’s words. He _did_ want to enjoy it. He wanted to savor every sensation: the salty taste of her skin, the pinch of her nails as they dug into his back, his grunts and groans mixing with hers. He was enthralled with the whole experience; it could last forever as far as he was concerned, and he’d be quite fine with it.

Mel whispered encouraging but inflaming words into his ear. “You feel so good,” she murmured. “But you’re holding back. I can feel it. You don’t need to.” She smiled against his cheek before she squeezed herself around him.

Vergil made a strangled noise, his fists bunching into the sheets as his already tenuous control slipped even more. “ _Mel-_ ”

“You’re fine.” She pressed a kiss to his temple. “Let go. You got to hear me come. Now I wanna hear you.”

Mel always seemed to know how to get past his defenses, and now was no different. Her words unfurled the last vestiges of his control. He bit her shoulder, reveling in the way she yelped. He shifted so he could grab her hips, fingers gripping to the point of bruising as his hips rocked in a nearly uncontrollable tempo. A growl escaped him as he felt that release coil tighter and hotter inside of him. It built and built with each thrust, until finally his body could take no more. It broke loose, completely enveloping him as he let out a short yell, pouring himself inside her and letting the pleasure drown out everything else. It was a little terrifying, but mostly wonderful.

Everything beyond that was a little hazy. Eventually he came down, barely keeping his weight off of Mel as the two of them laid there, catching their breaths. At some point they managed to pull apart. Vergil blindly stumbled out of bed to hit the light switch, cloaking the room in relative darkness. He fell back into the bed, too tired and sated to worry about cleaning himself off. Mel yawned, burying her face into the pillow. He laid next to her, not even bothering to pull the sheet over him. The last thing he remembered was draping an arm over her waist, watching her fall asleep before he did the same.

What he remembered more clearly was waking up sometime in the middle of the night. It took him a minute to figure out why, but the distant rumble of thunder cued him in. He idly wondered if he should close the windows, but he was far too comfortable and sleepy to get up. Besides, there was a very pretty girl curled up right next to him. Surely waking her up would be the bigger crime.

The room was dark, but there was just enough light from the city outside and the moon to allow him to get a good look at her. Her hair, curlier and unrulier than normal, covered much of her face. Vergil gently pushed it aside. She slept peacefully, her face free from any worry or stress. It was strange to think someone would be so relaxed and unafraid around him. Not that she had anything to fear: he had no reason or desire to harm her. He wasn’t even sure if he _could._

He watched her like that for quite a while, waiting for sleep to return. Even as it eluded him, Vergil realized he didn’t entirely mind. It wasn’t like he needed it much, and truth was, he was quite content to just keep looking at her, watching her chest rise and fall and listening to her soft breathing. It brought him peace, a feeling he was not terribly familiar with.

A part of him almost didn’t want to sleep. He didn’t know if he’d get another chance to watch her like that. But he wanted to. He so badly wanted to. He could spend every night like this, he realized, and be quite happy. A dual feeling of shock and joy seized him, because for the first time in his life, he truly wanted something besides power. Everything he’d done up to that point had been in pursuit of that goal. But right then and there, he wanted that girl, too. He wanted the happiness and peace she brought with her.

Something told him he would have to choose between the two. The question was, which did he want more? Which one would win out? And laying there next to her, in that bed on that hot July night, he didn’t know the answer.

* * *

Vergil sits on the bed, the weight of the past dragging him down and making his shoulders sag. He’d been so close. Fate had been warning him, and had given him a chance to escape from the path he stubbornly clung to. But he had failed to heed the signs, failed to listen to what everything had been telling him, and he persisted. It had cost him everything. It may have very well cost Mel everything, too.

If he had just known then what he knows now… if he had known what his plans would lead to, if he had known how much he (and probably Mel) would suffer…

If he had known that night would have a very permanent, very important consequence…

But he hadn’t. And he knows it’s pointless to dwell on it. He’s said it a dozen times before. Yet being here in this room, with the past looming over him and the results of his mistakes becoming clearer by the day, he can’t help but wish he had done things differently. For his sake. For Mel’s sake. For Nero’s sake.

He holds his head in his hands, regret seeping into every fiber of his being. “You stupid, foolish boy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, that quote is from Blake. Yes, I knew I was using it the moment I saw it, how could I not?


End file.
